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It was one of those weeks where, if I accomplished anything that delicious slice of information has completely eluded the tiny gray cells floating in my cranium. It is not as if those little gray cells had anything else to do.
As I suffused my weary body into my La-Z-Boy chair, I knew I was tired but I could not figure out what I had done during the week to make me this tired. After all, it did not seem like I had accomplished anything of significance this week. I was trying to do something, of course, but I had absolutely nothing to show for it. What was I trying to do this past week?
A verse of Scripture began haunting me as I thought about this. "Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin" (James 4:17). What was I supposed to "doeth" that I did not get around to "doething"?
Of course, there was that funeral I had this past week. Unfortunately, I opened my book to the wrong page and begin the funeral by saying, "Dearly beloved we are gathered together here to unite these two in holy matrimony."
Holy macaroni!
What a difference the wrong page makes. At least I was not officiating at a wedding and said, "Ashes to ashes, and dirt to dirt." Although, to be honest about it, I have had some weddings where I thought that phrase fit.
I was tempted, only for a moment, to query the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage but I feared she would tell me. There is something to say about mystery. Nothing is more mysterious than the feminine side of the marriage equation. Odd isn't it that the marriage equation is not always even.
As I reflected upon my week past, I duly noted the activities that occupied most of my week. Apart from the funeral, I had several hospital visits to make. As is usually the case, people conspire to go to the hospital at the same time but never at the same hospital. One even went out of town to go to a hospital.
Other visits were made and other activities attended. Certain deadlines were staring me in the face and I stared right back at them defiantly. I am not sure who won.
Services and Bible studies needed to be prepared for which can take up a lot of time. Then, don't you know it; my truck is always out of gas when I am in a hurry. I suppose I could fill my tank up when it got down to a certain level, but where would the fun be in that? Nothing compares to the adrenaline of being in a hurry and late for an appointment and then running out of gas.
Do not get me wrong here. It is not that I do not enjoy giving my wife a call on the cell phone when stranded along the side of the road. It is the highlight of the stranded experience. Usually, her response to my phone call is what stresses me out.
"What," she declares in that sarcastic tone of hers, "have you run out of gas again?"
It is her theatrical use of the word "again" that I believe could easily earn her an Oscar. I once presented her with an Oscar Meyer wiener, but she did not enjoy the joke. Personally, I thought it was a great joke and I really did not appreciate her reaction. Needless to say, I have not repeated that sin, although temptation is what it is.
I suppose I did do things and accomplished something this past week, but it really does not explain why I am as tired as I am.
I can remember there was a time that I did not even know the meaning of tired. I got tired all right; I just did not know the meaning of the word tired.
Then the whole thing dawned on me. It was almost like being hit on the head with an iron skillet by you know whom. The lights flashed. The light bulb went on. I had an epiphany to end all epiphanies.
At this point, I am surprised my wife did not get the jump on me with this one. The reason I am so tired is because I am old. There, I said it. I have come to that point in life where being young is a fond fading memory.
As this bit of information began marinating in my cranium, it had a very comforting effect. Up to this point, I had been worrying about the fact that I was tired and I could not link that condition with any specific activity. As is usually the case, there are good sound reasons for everything. I began to look at my tired condition in a completely different light.
I have earned my being tired. It is something I have worked for all my life. Now, here it is. I am now collecting those wonderful dividends from all that activity of the past.
As I thought about this, a marvelous verse of Scripture came to my mind. "The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the gray head." (Proverbs 20:29 KJV).
Being tired is the crown of a lifetime of activity.
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