Throughout the day, I wondered if he was just out for a casual bike ride, or intentionally sharing his love for Jesus with whomever would listen. Well, I was listening, and for him, I had to thank the Lord. I thanked God for this young man, praising the Lord aloud without a care in the world. I thanked the Lord for Mr. HGP’s faith and his casual yet simple evangelism. Mostly, I thanked the Lord that this young man set off my day in the most perfect way.

Country roads. I love 'em. Honestly, when I was a prissy little suburban punk, I feared those dusty, gravelly roads. But since moving to the country, I’ve learned to enjoy them for what they are: gateways to the unexplored.

As I looked at it, I figured, why not? That would make a fun "just because" gift for Shawn and Connie, especially considering it’s his birthday today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAWN! So today, I slapped a title and my signature on the print, and hauled it over to Shawn at work.

“I see you.” Three simple words strung together, the sum of their individual parts meaning so much more. In James Cameron’s Avatar, there exists a people called the Na’vi. The Na’vi saw beyond seeing; they saw into the heart. Like the Na’vi: “I see you, dear quiet lady.”

Now, don’t go lecturing me or nothing. You love them too. I mean, what’s not to love about molten apple pie filling encased in a fried filo-dough type of shell? Sure, in no way are they healthy, but this is Ronald’s house we’re talking about. McDonald’s hasn’t stayed in business because people want a salad.

While I truly dig my new regular specks (and, you know, safely operating a motor vehicle), I was overjoyed to have my sunglasses back. Honestly, I have the photic tolerance of a vampire when the sky is even minimally bright. For all these reasons, but especially the last, I feel hugely grateful today to the Lord. I feel like a spoiled kid who just got the exact toy he wanted

So, now you know. In case anybody asks, or dare one of your kids or grandkids accuse you of being “old,” you can politely inform them there are strictly defined categories of “old.”

Like a heavenly choir of angels, their voices filled the room. Normally, my octogenarian friends are kinda quiet. This morning, though, they sang their hearts out. I had to compliment them, just as Sherm would have. “You all sound so wonderful this morning.” Wowzers. (Honestly, I wish my congregation sang like that, and they sing, let me tell ya!).

Hearing that thunder boom, I bolted up and peered out the window. No rain yet, but I confessed to Max that my windows were currently wide open to the elements. Max mentioned he was planning on walking over to the convenience store anyway, so we called it a wrap.

ircling back like Jen Psaki, maybe that’s why I haven’t slept well in days. It’s been so sultry up there even the devil would be complaining. Give me a room at 55 and a heavy comforter, and this fluffy friar would be sleepin’ like a baby. Now that would be like chillin’ in a chillbox, and it would be glorious.

I don't know. Perhaps this was heaven’s way of saying it was time for a new pair so that I can see the world a bit better. Until then, my wife tells me to wear a hat when I’m driving. Yup! Thank the good Lord I have plenty of those, too.

There with me was an angelic figure; and before me stood a large, old-fashioned mirror made of elaborate wood and glass on a swiveling pedestal. In the glass, I saw two images of myself at my current age: one healthy and nicely built, and the other exactly as I am now. The Elohim being accompanying me simply said: “Choose!” Then I woke up.