And if you don’t, the full statement is that the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.
I’m sure I do not understand all the ramifications of that statement of Jesus Christ’s, but it has special meaning for me because -- full disclosure here -- I was always first in my class academically but on the athletic fields of my youth I was always chosen last. And when I say always, in both cases I mean ALWAYS.
Don’t get me wrong. Over the years, I’ve learned that I am not nearly as bright as I once thought I was. There is obviously a great deal about which I haven’t a clue (British: klew) . I’m no Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein. I’m not even Malcolm Muggeridge. Far from it. I did manage to earn a decent living working for both IBM and AT&T, but so did thousands of others. Smarter replacements arrive all the time. I am well down the list in the brains department. My athletic abilities have not improved one whit. The fulfillment of that particular prophecy/wish of last becoming first is apparently still in the future.
Life is funny (not funny ha-ha, funny peculiar) and things often have a way of working out. Hopes and dreams have a way of coming to pass. For example, Mrs. Janet Baines Brockett, my high-school math teacher, neighbor, and friend, thought I should go to Duke University. I didn’t, but one of my grandsons is a student there now. Miss Sally Pearce, my first band director, wanted me to spend a summer at the famous music camp in Interlochen, Michigan. I didn’t, but that same grandson did. I always loved baseball and longed to be able to play better. So far it hasn’t happened, but another of my grandsons was recruited to play on his college’s baseball team. Two grandsons have excelled at basketball. One actually played three different sports. All of the grandchildren are excellent students; there’s not a ringer in the bunch. One is an excellent trumpet player. One is an excellent French Horn player. Two are excellent dancers. And since these young people are extensions of me and have my blood coursing through their veins, I participate vicariously in their successes and revel in their accomplishments. It’s almost as though I’m right there too.
Please don’t try to disabuse me of this odd notion or tell me that’s not what Jesus meant. Some days it’s all I have.
“In this part of the world where I belong, keeping any form of pet is not really as popular and fun as you do over there.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if this ties into the parable about the man who paid his vineyard workers who only worked a short time the same as those who had worked all day. I was horrified at the unfairness of that when I read it all those decades ago, and I still don’t see the good in it.
All you have sounds like a pretty generous helping to me.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great way to appreciate all that God has given you ~ some of it directly and some indirectly! :)
ReplyDeleteIt is never too late to take up sport Bob. All you need is a tracksuit, some sports shoes and the kind of stretchy headband that John McEnroe used to wear. Then set off jogging - walking -jogging - walking as you build up your sporting prowess. You could drive over to Red Top Mountain State Park twice a week to advance your new exercise regime. Good luck!
ReplyDelete