Yea, right! I’ll bet whoever said this was not past thirty!
Alright, 47 is not ancient by any means. But try telling that to my body after chasing around a four year old- not to mention an up and coming seven month old. I feel like the apostle Paul, but it is not me being born out of due season.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my kids and cannot believe how God has transformed my life over the last few years. Wow! To think that just seven short years ago I was battling loneliness, self-doubt and questions about ever being able to preach again. O me of little faith!
But when your kid tells her aunt who has settled down in the backyard to play with her, “My daddy can’t sit on the ground like that. He is really old,” it is time to face the facts.
Yes, I workout. Yes, I try not to eat too many of Terri’s homemade iced oatmeal cookies, but there is no denying that I can’t get to basket like I once did. Some grinning teen always seems to be there first stealing the ball from me.
Therefore I declare myself an old preacher. (Taylor has already declared me an old dad) And as such I will reserve the right and this blog to pontificate, orate and most likely exaggerate on whatever adventure suits my fancy. So pity the three people who will actually read this stuff!
So if you are one of those three be on the look-out because I am only getting started. Be sure to check back in because the dispensing of age-weathered, sage wisdom has just begun.