Horn, be thou tooted!
Yes, it is my birthday. Gifts of all denominations (that means money, not Methodists) will be accepted. You can also send watches, old books, Martin guitars, Jaguars, Mustangs, autographed pictures of Ronald Reagan and Zoey Deschanel, and/or iPads.
Really, I am happy to be 46 years old, which is four years shy of half a century. Some people are older than me, but a lot are younger – many of which are stupid. Did I just say that? Yes, I did. It’s because I’m getting older and old people can say what they want.
In all seriousness, today is a day which I have been fearing for the last 22 years. When I was 24 my father died (coincidentally, he was 24 when his dad died). He was 46 years old. Now, on this momentous day, I am as old as he was when he went home to be with the Lord. Sobering, isn’t it?
Even though it is sobering, if not a little depressing, the though of being as old as my dad was when he died has caused me to reflect on my life. It has also caused me to think more about my wife and children who, if they had been like me 22 years ago, would only have me around six months longer.
If I die this year – and I hope I don’t, believe me! – at least my wife and kids will have insurance money, a collection of recordings of me preaching and singing, and a lot of written words. However, they won’t have ME.
That is why I don’t drive as recklessly.
That is why I am thinking more about my diet.
That is why I am beginning to work out.
That is why my journal entries are becoming more pensive, thankful, and less gripey.
That is why I am trying to make sure I live the way I want to be remembered.
More than ever, I want to finish well.