A Year of Morning Thanks
But another facet of growing older is simple care with which I walk these days. I'm not so much afraid of falling as I am simply conscious of less youthful balance and strength. Someday soon--if not already--I'll resemble ye olde kneeless guys, bent over and staggering.
Maybe it's simple age that prompts my thanks this morning, but yesterday I spent 12 hours in a van with a bunch of students eons younger than I am. In a rush, we made it to our destination right on time, me at the wheel for a goodly portion. Meandering between the monster 18-wheelers that dominate our interstate system, I sometimes forgot I was getting old--and sometimes didn't.
This morning, after arriving far later into the night that I'm used to being up, I'm more conscious of the blessing of a safe arrival. This morning's thanks are, therefore, not particularly difficult. We zipped through 700 miles in good time, the van full of college student jabber, which itself makes me both tired--and feeling younger.
When I stepped out of the van, my knees were still gimpy; but I'm glad to be here in Michigan, even more happy that our sojourn was blessed by what old preachers always used to call "traveling mercies." We got 'em.