I got a call from a contractor who wanted me to drive a logging truck for a few days. I’m seventy-one years old and licensed, but I haven’t jammed those gears for thirty years. Some would say it’s like riding a bicycle, and you never forget. No, you might hurt yourself when you’re out bike riding, but a mistake in trucking can hurt others. Truckers are always dealing with the following: How wide do you make the turn? How many gears do you skip in that hill? What is the distance needed to stop 100,000 pounds and twenty-two wheels? And when are you too tired so that you need to call it good and shut her down? Those skills the years have stolen from me and I can never get them back.
Somebody needed me, but I had to face my limitations. That’s the stinker about age-related problems.
The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants!
Give it some thought the next time you’re called to do something that time has taken away from you.
Gary