Knowing That God Really Cares About You
I picked up Pastor Ken yesterday and we went over to Gene’s to prune the trees encroaching on his house, as I promised in the previous posting. Before going, we loaded up the church’s monster ladder—it must be 36’—so we could reach high enough on the big cherry tree to cable it off properly.
I should report that all three of us survived relatively unscathed. I got twice as many email warnings as blog comments and who knows how many just mumbled that “that ninny Sam is out trying to kill himself again.” It’s nice to know there were so many people concerned about our safety and welfare to warn me “not to do anything foolish.”
I’ve not done a scientific study but I’d venture that such warnings register on the Richter scale when males hit their eighth birthday, ascending to naked threats through age fourteen at which time the agitation and frequency of the alarms spike sharply, reaching apogee in the male’s seventeenth year. Alarm bells continue at a steady rate for the next two years, thereafter tapering off only because the young man either cannot be found or is asleep. Sometime in his thirties, he moves from the role of the warned to that of the warn-er.
During the mid-years, it’s assumed that the man in question is what he is—no warnings; you’re on your own. At around age fifty-four—or when he first mentions “retirement”—he begins to hear well-meaning advice to “take care of yourself.” The frequency and tone of urgency accelerates until the simple-minded soul stops taking risks. I should be at that point in life but don’t display that maturity level; Ken is approaching it and our friend Gene simply keeps both feet on the ground. (So why do we keep doing foolish things?) I would suppose that the perigee of warnings in a man’s life occurs five years before he dies, as most people figure “if he ain’t listened before; he ain’t gonna listen now.” Since no one knows when that is, each man is blessed by a continual chorus of dear souls dedicated to keeping him out of trouble—forever.
Yesterday, that dedication paid off and Ken and Gene and I would like to thank each of you for your heartfelt prayers and warnings to “not do anything foolish.” We pruned the gangly wild cherry tree that was actually only about 35’ tall. It wasn’t easy but we got the cable up high enough so that when I began cutting the top part of the 10” branch, Ken and Gene were pulling on that cable. Wow! It landed exactly where we planned! High fives all around. No kick-back at all. We had a lot of fun and got a chancy job finished at no cost to Gene.
And no broken heads or falls. God protects us even when we go out on a limb.