We never think about getting old when we’re young. If we do think of it, we see ourselves in 20-year-old bodies, but with grey hair. My hair is pretty good shape, though my forehead is very slightly taller than it once was. My body is a different story. Most of my problems are my own fault; I was stocky, but muscular for many years, but now I’m a hopeless blubber-butt. The muscles now sag from too many years of non-work “work,” too.
I hurt one knee several years ago running from hornets. Great leaps through the woods, triple-axels and pirouettes are tough on an aging over-weight body. I don’t remember which knee it was now; they seem to hurt by turns, though the left one has learned a new trick recently. It feels like the knee-cap divides down the middle and tries to open like a sliding door. Not fun.
Old Arthur Rightus is no help; he keeps moving around over my body, sometimes claiming more than one home at a time. He’s especially annoying when he moves into my feet or knees, though. I can’t do some simple things anymore, like climb a ladder and clean the gutters, or easily carry something heavy up or down the stairs.
What bothers me the most, though, is the effect on my prayer life. I used to spend a lot of time on my knees before the Lord. I can’t do that these days without a lot of pain. If I try it, getting back on my feet is very painful and slow. I hate that, the Lord deserves better than someone sitting on their backside when they talk to Him. © 2013