The Old Ones Are Dying

THE OLD ONES ARE DYING

(Vertice, Gilbert’s wife, was buried yesterday, 01/21/12)

At work, in the Lime Kiln Mud Room, waiting on my co-worker, John, I began to wander to scenes from my younger years.  “Is Gilbert alive?” was the question twisting my mind.  As I get older, I have trouble remembering who has left, and who remains.  Gilbert was the preacher who baptized me, two weeks after my 13^th birthday.  Years later, he also performed my wedding to Melanie.  In many ways he has been a mentor.  I still remember his advice to a teen boy considering ministry – “If you can do anything else, then do not preach.” (some 40 years later, I still find myself not wanting to do anything else, although I am.)

Snapping back, “is Gilbert still walking among us…”  A year ago, last October, we buried Rupert, my 83yr old dad.  At work, this month, we lost a co-worker, in his 50’s, to cancer.  At the Christmas dinner, for the paper machine crew, I skipped meeting the retirees who were invited.  Somehow, I did not want to walk over from the pulp mill.  It was not laziness.  Soon enough, I will be stepping through the doors of retirement and …

Sometime during my senior year in high school, in the football locker room, I sat alone, dealing with the relentless advance of time.  I had just made a great tackle, on the practice field, and coach rewarded me by sending me to the showers, letting me skip wind-sprint drills that ended practice.  But, I was not feeling fortunate.  Rather, I sat there, alone, in the dark, sweaty locker room ruing, even lamenting, the knowledge that I had only two games left, and then, it was over.

Gone?!  “…teach me to number my days…” (Ps.90:12) is the advice/warning that echoes in my head.  The words “…your life is but a vapor, a mist…” (Jas.4:14) take form in the haze.  To be sure, the “sting” (1Cor.15:55) is gone; it will be nearly euphoric.  Like some Valhalla seeking warrior, I welcome the final battle.  In victory, pulling him close to me, although it means grasping his sword edge, I want to spit in Death’s face as he vanquishes me.  Remember Obiwan’s esoteric answer?  “you cannot imagine…”  Then he quietly drops his defenses and allows Vadar’s light-saber rage.   

Images of three departed, yet present, warriors haunt me.  Moreso, I am reminded of the Good Shepherd’s confident boast, “…no man takes my life, but I gladly lay it down…” (Jn.10:18)

For now, I will cherish each breath, each moment, each day He gives me. I will choose to have a good attitude.  I will pray for good health and, moreso, a good heart.  Life is too short to be negative and down.  I will raise my head, in positive praise, and sing the victor’s anthem.  I will make each day count. 

Recently, I gave in to the nagging of my wife and mother, and the advice of my daughter, and went to the sleep clinic.  I now have a “snorkel” and sleep in deep-space cryostasis as we transport to the next destination. (weirdo)  My oldest son asked, “…why did you give in?”  (he knows how stubborn I am.)  With a grin, I responded, wryly,  “I want to play the last quarter full-speed.”  He smiled, knowlingly.  But, now with good REM, I can fully face the new day!

Soon enough, I will be with them.  Somehow, recently singing “Precious Memories” with the rural Tennessee church we sometimes visit, seemed to be especially bitter-sweet.  Questions of legacy and replacements nag my thoughts.  Sometimes, I question that I may be a “weak-link” in this inter-generational hand-off.  I do not want to fumble the ball!  Let’s run the race with perseverance and focus.   The grandstands are full of cheering fans, all-stars from the past. (Heb.12:1)  And, soon enough, they will run onto the field to celebrate the victory!