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I have heard it said that confession is good for the soul. I want to take that a step further and say confession is good for the body as well.

I don’t often think about how old I am, I’m too busy with other thoughts. Occasionally, something happens that reminds me I am not quite as old as I think I am. Do not get me wrong, it is a good experience for soul and body.

When I get up in the morning, I feel achy, not to mention grouchy because the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage mentions that. I get up feeling old and dreary. I wallow in despair, thinking how old I really am and not knowing what to do with it.

I was tootling along one day last week, quite focused on getting my business for the day done. In fact, I was feeling good about the progress I was making with my “to-do list.” Nothing is more satisfying to me than the sense of being in control of my schedule. I love checking off items on my “to-do list.”

As the scheme of things usually develops with me, this euphoric situation was not long-lived. It was left to the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage to bring a sense of reality into my life.

Through the years, I have experienced one dilemma after another.

I remember my father once told me, “Son, when life delivers you a dilemma, make lemonade out of it.” To which I looked at him with a big grin and said, “Is there any dilemma I can make a root beer out of it?”

My father did not grin back.

Everywhere I look these days people are obsessed with age. More products are sold today to make you look younger than anything else. Everybody desires to look younger than what they actually are. I think that is rather hypocritical.

Just saying.

It seems to me that nobody is happy with the way they are. When you are young, you want to be old and then when you get old you want to be young. Nobody is happy being what they are at the time.