Don’t Waste A Drop

One of my first introductions to the harsher realities of life came when I was somewhere around twelve or thirteen years of age. You know up until that point in life you are immortal. Tomorrow is just another day and thoughts of death, or sickness or the future for that matter, are few and far between.

One of the most difficult realities to face, in my opinion, is the fact that life itself is a fluid thing. It moves, it undulates, it rolls to and fro and back and forth for lack of a better description. It simply doesn’t allow you to completely relax and enjoy the ride, because you never know where the ride might take you. It’s this lack of certainty that breeds a quiet, subtle apprehension that is always hiding in the shadows of your mind. It’s the thing that keeps you sharp.  

My first introduction to this truth came when I was watching my Grandfather’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was watching me as I stared into the same mirror desperately trying to get my cowlick to behave. The thing had always been there, but I had just recently begun to notice it along with a cute little brunette who lived a couple of streets over on Arthur Avenue, towards town.  

I was walking over to Aunt Nellie’s house on some errand or other for Granny that morning when a bright red dodge ball flew past my head with a rushing sound missing me by an inch or so. Well, just like a rabbit when a hawk gets too close, I hit the ground. On my way down I could hear the laughter start over to my left only to hear it increase on my way back up what with a garnish of leaves, rocks and dust now adorning my outfit.

Back in the sixties entertainment wasn’t as readily available as it is today for kids, so some unknown gangly boy flailing about for all the world like a katydid in a squall was considered pretty good stuff.

No, I didn’t appreciate it and yes, I got my pantaloons in a bunch over it; but I would have laughed myself, and I knew it. So my huffiness was short lived. It didn’t take long until I was making my Granny wait and playing dodge ball myself hoping for all I was worth that Brenda, the little brunette, would make me her target.

I was looking into the medicine cabinet mirror on the wall of Granny and Grandpa’s little bathroom later that evening admiring myself and preening for all I was worth. In truth, I didn’t even know why I was doing what I was doing. Up until that point in my life, I really didn’t care at all what I looked like, just so long as I held my mouth right when I was fishing; but there I was, plain as day, dipping into the Brylcreem and plastering my ill-tempered locks down for all they were worth.

I didn’t fully understand, but Grandpa, sitting in the back bedroom on the old rocker watching, he did. He understood, and with a touch of palpable sadness about him, later that same evening he did something he seldom did. He hugged me, and then he told me he was going to miss me next summer.

I was thunderstruck. I had been spending a good part of my summers at Granny and Grandpa’s place for eight or nine years, basically my entire life, or what I remembered of it; and this proclamation knocked the wind right out of me.

I backed up in preteen anger and asked him what he meant by that. He grinned and told me that by this time next year, he and Granny were going to be playing second fiddle in my life.

I did not believe him, but I also did not go back down to Panama City the next summer. I had discovered something. I had transitioned from a boy to a young man, and the young ladies had picked up the fiddle and played it for all it was worth until one particular young lady picked it up and played a tune that I could never grow tired of hearing.

It is amazing what a little Brylcreem can reveal to a wise old man isn’t it?
 
Life is like that. It is filled with constant change. It always seems that the ground underneath your feet is getting ready to shift once again. Stability in this life is a delusion; the moment you think you’re steady, the wind changes and you’re off balance again. It is just part of life. There is nothing sinister about it. It’s just the way it is, but I agree it can get tiresome sometimes. I also contend that it is all part of the Maker’s plan for us. Life is a process and change is simply part of that process. With change comes growth, if that change is handled correctly.  

We all have a choice when life takes a turn and beckons us to follow it into the unfamiliar. We can retreat in fear back to the known and the comfortable, or with undaunted courage we can see where the road leads and hope for stimulating travels, sensational times and wonderful treasures untold.

Personally, I vote for the treasure. Life is far too short to live in fear of what might be awaiting you around the next bend in the road; and besides, your Maker made the road, so what can there be to fear?
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Enjoy today. Live in the now. Treasure every moment of the life that God has given you. Savor this life. Don’t waste a drop.
 
Love,
Pastor Tony   
 

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