Here's Pastor Dave McDowell's weekly devotional that he sends out to members of his church. Dave is my brother and serves as the Music Minister at Stewartstown UMC in PA.
They say getting old isn't for sissies.
I don't mind growing older,
after all, it is inevitable for all of us.
I have a philosophy about aging....
I choose to grow older,
but not grow old.
That's why last week was a punch in the stomach.
I am in the concluding stages
of building my home.
So far,
I have subjected my body to:
Insulation irritation to the eyes, nose & throat,
cuts, scrapes and bruises over my entire body,
a 25 stitch cut to the arm,
and aches and pains in places that I didn't even know existed.
And that's only in the first 5 months!
Through it all,
I kept telling myself to suck it up,
and press on.
But last week was the final straw.
I noticed on Wednesday that the middle finger
of my left hand began to swell.
By late Wednesday afternoon,
it had swollen to such a degree,
and was so painful
that I called for an appointment with my doctor.
I was fortunate enough to get the last appointment of the day.
The finger had all the looks of being infected....
not a difficult feat to accomplish when one is living
in layers of drywall dust and sawdust.
It was swollen to the extent that
it looked like it was going to explode.
Touching it would have met
with the greatest of displeasure by the owner.
The doctor examined the finger,
cleared his voice, and said to his beleaguered patient.
"Well it might be infected,
but what I think you are dealing with here
is the Gout."
"The What?" I retorted
"The Gout," he repeated.
"It has all the classic symptoms of the Gout," he explained.
"Even though the Gout is normally found
in the feet,
it can occur in any joint of the body."
I wasn't listening to anything he was saying anymore.
All I heard were two words.....
THE GOUT.
When I thought of The Gout,
it conjured up images of
old people, nursing homes, hot water bottles, and afghans.
Suddenly this wasn't an attack on my finger.....
it was an attack on my youth.
I can't have The Gout, I said inside my head.
I go skiing, I play volleyball,
I am building a house for goodness sake!
I don't have time for a hot water soak with Epsom Salts
I barely have time to salt my lunch.
In the middle of the examination room,
I was having a mid-life crisis,
all brought on by those two words.
I started seeing visions of me with a walker,
complete with tennis ball coasters and an pouch
filled with pill bottles and TV remote.
Add a lifeline lanyard around my neck and I was set.
If growing old isn't for sissies,
well give me the sissie of the year award right now.
After a blood test and a few days of antibiotics,
it turned out the doctor was wrong.
The finger was infected.
As I am building my house,
I am doing so making considerations in the construction
for the last years of my life.
It is the first time that I have seriously
thought about the last years of my life.
Facing one's mortality does take courage.
As each birthday passes,
one often hears the comment...
Well, it is better than the alternative!
Is it?
Not according to what my Creator
has said in His Word about life eternal.
I realized my fears weren't about death,
they were about becoming useless,
about being forgotten,
about being seen as irrelevant.
As the church celebrates All Saints Day this Nov 1,
may we all realize that
a life lived in Christ is never irrelevant.
In fact,
it is after we are gone,
that our influence is often felt the most.
Call me a sissie if you will.
Call me anything,
but in Christ,
never call me irrelevant,
in this life or the next.
"For we know that if the earthly tent
which is our house is torn down,
we have a building made from God,
a house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens.
For indeed in this house, we groan,
longing to be clothed
with our dwelling from heaven."
- 2 Corinthians 5:1-2
They say getting old isn't for sissies.
I don't mind growing older,
after all, it is inevitable for all of us.
I have a philosophy about aging....
I choose to grow older,
but not grow old.
That's why last week was a punch in the stomach.
I am in the concluding stages
of building my home.
So far,
I have subjected my body to:
Insulation irritation to the eyes, nose & throat,
cuts, scrapes and bruises over my entire body,
a 25 stitch cut to the arm,
and aches and pains in places that I didn't even know existed.
And that's only in the first 5 months!
Through it all,
I kept telling myself to suck it up,
and press on.
But last week was the final straw.
I noticed on Wednesday that the middle finger
of my left hand began to swell.
By late Wednesday afternoon,
it had swollen to such a degree,
and was so painful
that I called for an appointment with my doctor.
I was fortunate enough to get the last appointment of the day.
The finger had all the looks of being infected....
not a difficult feat to accomplish when one is living
in layers of drywall dust and sawdust.
It was swollen to the extent that
it looked like it was going to explode.
Touching it would have met
with the greatest of displeasure by the owner.
The doctor examined the finger,
cleared his voice, and said to his beleaguered patient.
"Well it might be infected,
but what I think you are dealing with here
is the Gout."
"The What?" I retorted
"The Gout," he repeated.
"It has all the classic symptoms of the Gout," he explained.
"Even though the Gout is normally found
in the feet,
it can occur in any joint of the body."
I wasn't listening to anything he was saying anymore.
All I heard were two words.....
THE GOUT.
When I thought of The Gout,
it conjured up images of
old people, nursing homes, hot water bottles, and afghans.
Suddenly this wasn't an attack on my finger.....
it was an attack on my youth.
I can't have The Gout, I said inside my head.
I go skiing, I play volleyball,
I am building a house for goodness sake!
I don't have time for a hot water soak with Epsom Salts
I barely have time to salt my lunch.
In the middle of the examination room,
I was having a mid-life crisis,
all brought on by those two words.
I started seeing visions of me with a walker,
complete with tennis ball coasters and an pouch
filled with pill bottles and TV remote.
Add a lifeline lanyard around my neck and I was set.
If growing old isn't for sissies,
well give me the sissie of the year award right now.
After a blood test and a few days of antibiotics,
it turned out the doctor was wrong.
The finger was infected.
As I am building my house,
I am doing so making considerations in the construction
for the last years of my life.
It is the first time that I have seriously
thought about the last years of my life.
Facing one's mortality does take courage.
As each birthday passes,
one often hears the comment...
Well, it is better than the alternative!
Is it?
Not according to what my Creator
has said in His Word about life eternal.
I realized my fears weren't about death,
they were about becoming useless,
about being forgotten,
about being seen as irrelevant.
As the church celebrates All Saints Day this Nov 1,
may we all realize that
a life lived in Christ is never irrelevant.
In fact,
it is after we are gone,
that our influence is often felt the most.
Call me a sissie if you will.
Call me anything,
but in Christ,
never call me irrelevant,
in this life or the next.
"For we know that if the earthly tent
which is our house is torn down,
we have a building made from God,
a house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens.
For indeed in this house, we groan,
longing to be clothed
with our dwelling from heaven."
- 2 Corinthians 5:1-2
.
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