I’ve arrived at a shocking realization: I’m going to be officially elderly on my next birthday. When I advertised for a Personal Care Attendant last month, several applicants emailed back saying they enjoy working with elderly people. At first their comments baffled me, since I no longer think of being 64 as the precipice of old age.
I mean, really! I blog and use social media. I read books on Kindle. How much cooler could I possibly get? And that wedding anniversary that John and I will celebrate two months from now will only be our 16th. Now I ask you, don’t I sound closer to 35 than 65? Thank you. I think so too!
Except that I blog and use social media because typing has gotten too strenuous for writing magazine articles, more less that autobiographical book that so many people throughout the years have told me I should write. I know I’m supposed to edit and revise blog posts like I used to edit and revise articles that I submitted to print publications back when I used an electric typewriter (some of you have probably never even heard of typewriters), but I don’t. I read books on Kindle only because I can no longer turn the pages of a physical book. And I had no viable opportunity for marriage (at least for a godly marriage) until I met John. Now I ask you, don’t I sound old?
Well, I guess I am old. And lately I’ve noticed that blogging daily has been growing more difficult. People don’t realize that typing with a headstick and Cerebral Palsy uses my entire body, not just my neck. Last night, after typing that 635-word blog post, I went to bed sore.
I haven’t been doing much digital art lately, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed by the graphics I use over and over to illustrate The Outspoken TULIP. I feel guilty about that, but blogging leaves me too tired to produce many new drawings. I rarely email friends, let alone write an actual letter. The Outspoken TULIP demands the bulk of my time and energy, causing me to ignore those other things.
I remember being 34 and writing counseling letters for work, plays for church, entries in my personal journal and 8-page letters to friends — all on (you guessed it) my typewriter. I’ll never be that productive again!
But I’m wondering whether or not blogging daily really honors the Lord. I take days off to go to Boston on dates with John, as I will to celebrate unFather’s Day tomorrow, but maybe I need days off to draw, write letters or even play solitaire. Who knows? I might even revise some blog posts before I publish them.
4 thoughts on “I Remember Being 35”
Hi Deb. Do you have an email I can reach you at?
My email address is on the sidebar under the section with my Amazon wish list. If you read blog on a cell phone, try scrolling to the bottom or tabbing the hamburger menu at the upper left. Somewhere you will find the Amazon wish list section. Convert the AT to the @ symbol, and convert DOT to a period. That should give you my email address.
I, too, remember being 35. While my disability is not visible, it nonetheless greatly impacts my energy and ability to serve. To serve one day is often a choice to rest the two following days. Yet, God is sovereign. Perhaps he wants me to be more humble, more prayerful, less busy. Maybe, he would be more pleased if I took off more time to call a friend or spend with my husband than to keep pushing in service. This lack of energy is certainly a reason to pray for discernment to use the energy I do have wisely!
Exactly. Perhaps too it increases our longing for heaven, when we can serve Him without growing tired.