I have heard it said that confession is good for the soul. I want to take that a step further and say confession is good for the body as well.
I don’t often think about how old I am, I’m too busy with other thoughts. Occasionally, something happens that reminds me I am not quite as old as I think I am. Do not get me wrong, it is a good experience for soul and body.
When I get up in the morning, I feel achy, not to mention grouchy because the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage mentions that. I get up feeling old and dreary. I wallow in despair, thinking how old I really am and not knowing what to do with it.
Oh, poor me, woe is me.
Something happened this past week that gave me a completely different view of how old I really am.
I had an appointment to go to the doctor to have my annual blood work done. Every year this doctor wants a sample of my blood for who knows why. He is obsessed with my blood and tries to get it every time he can. Being the good patient I am, I concede to his request.
I had an appointment across town to get the blood work done and got there well before my appointment. Therefore, I had to sit in the waiting room until my appointment time.
I usually take a book with me to read because I know that doctors, as educated as they are, do not seem to know how to tell time. So, instead of wasting that time, I take a book and get caught up on some reading I have to do. You cannot read too many books.
While I was quietly reading my book, all of a sudden, I heard a bang and the door flew open and in came a woman with a walker. I will not say she was an old woman, but youth was in her past as far back as you possibly could go.
When she came in, the whole atmosphere of that room changed and not in the positive. As soon as her head got through the door, you could see a grimace on her face to beat all grimaces. It scared me at first. I have never seen such a mean looking face.
Then she begins snarling. “Get out of my way. Where’s my doctor? I want to see him now.”
I was not in her way, but I certainly got further from her way as I possibly could. I am not sure how old she was but she had grouchy down to a fine-tuned art. I think all of us in the room were praying that the doctor would take her in right away.
Thankfully, our prayers were answered. She was escorted out and you could hear a deep sigh in that room. I do not think I would have wanted to be her doctor that day, at least.
I was finally settling down and back to my book when the door opened again. In walked an older gentleman, and I use the word gentleman very carefully, with a cane.
He rumbled up to the window to sign in and the lady politely asked who he was.
Looking at her with eyes that would have scared a tiger he said, “Who do you think I am?”
That is not all he said, but some words I would not want to repeat even in the dark. Obviously, he was old enough to know all the curse words in the dictionary. He mentioned some words that I had never heard before and I am quite sure they are not in the English dictionary.
He signed his name and then hobbled over to take a seat and then glanced at me and said, “What are you staring at?” Again, I cannot use all the words he used.
Believe me, when I say I was tempted to tell him what I was looking at. Then I noticed the cane in his right hand and decided to look the other way.
Until the nurse came to take him in to see the doctor, he was muttering under his breath and I did not want to hear what he was muttering. The meanness on his face gave me pause to think a little bit.
Casually, I looked around the room and saw most of the people were old and nobody looked very happy. When they walked up to sign in, they limped. When the nurse got him to take them back to see their doctor, they staggered and limped.
At the time, I did not know what to do. Then a smile began creeping across my face. I had to be careful that I did not laugh aloud. A wonderful thought danced in my mind.
Looking around very carefully I noticed one stunning fact. That fact was, I am not as old as I thought I was. When I got up that morning, I felt old and decrepit. Now I was around people that were really old. Compared to them, I was a babe in swaddling clothes.
I then remembered what David said. “They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing” (Psalm 92:14).
I am at the place now where I can begin to enjoy the fruit of my old age.