When we lived in the church we had a neighbor, everyone called him Dicky. Dicky and his wife had the biggest garden. It went along side the entire length of their drive to their big farm house. There to greet you were the dozens of kitties that Dicky loved. On summer days, you would find him zipping down our gravel road to water the flowers at the cemetery across the road.
Alwin was the best old guy. He lived down the road the other direction, his house even bigger than Dicky's. He would come into the bank grinning ear to ear, and I would say, "Alwin, how you doing?" And his response every single time was, "I'm still a kicking." Soon his age started to catch up with him, then it was, "I am still a kicking, but not so high!"
We moved a couple years ago. Alwin died a few years before. Dicky can no longer rides his moped. I just learned as I sat here, that another sweet neighbor is no longer here.
I know.. this is kinda a morbid post. We all grow old right? How do I forget daily though that someday real soon I am going to see Jesus face to face? That someday He will return or I will return to Him.
Quite frankly, I don't get everything about God. He is a big old mystery to me. And that's ok. And much of the time I don't "get" much about myself either. But I am so excited to see Him one day.
Somehow, I don't think the next thing on my list to gain will gain me anything. And the security in living in a safe country will gain me safety. The comfort of my bed will mean nothing to me when I am made aware of the bigger picture.
Somehow we have been robbed of an eternal perspective. I really want to keep on kicking like Alwin until I can't, be tomorrow or years from now, but I want to do so everyday gaining less, less of me. I want to know, really know the Lord. I want to be close to Him, in Africa, Texas, or here.
Anyhum. I guess that's all I was thinking today.