I’ve been quiet for a good while now. Inner turmoil has been my portion. I love structure, and driving a school bus has helped me to keep depression away. During the summer break, I need to maintain a schedule of some sort. I mow a young man’s yard. He works twelve-hour shifts and has little time to maintain a two-acre yard.

On the physical side, I’ve gotten weaker. At seventy-four, I find I need more downtime. Like yesterday, I trimmed some but mowed about an acre and a half of church lawn. I have to leave the rest to younger, stronger men. I came home and mowed over my yard and called it a day. Committing myself to this routine keeps me rested and out of the heat. The heat is what takes me down the hardest. I was dehydrated when I got done. My BP was 90/60, pulse 109. I drank water and such till I went to bed, and my reading was normal this morning. It was more like 123/73 pulse 89. My glucose readings are what concern me. It was 145 upon rising this morning. I’d say it averages a mild 125. My A1C is 6.6.. That is a bit high, but I’m still not taking medication. I’m still trying to maintain an appropriate diet.

My biggest problem at the moment is my sight. I can see pretty good, but when I take an extended time with reading, my left eye crosses. This has been an issue since I was in my early teens. When my eyes get tired this happens. I am due an exam, so I will have to call soon for an appointment.

Thank goodness I’m not where I was last summer. We picked up our Aussie/Doxie mix on the 20th of July and I had my TURP procedure done on the 22nd and was out of commission for three weeks. This is when I found out I have prostate cancer. Thank goodness I have a very weak form of it and was told I would only be monitored to ensure it was stable. I have another biopsy coming up in November. I’ve had several skin cancers, but they don’t give me concern. They get cut out and all is well.

I’ve had to surrender myself to retain my spiritual level. It is so difficult sometimes when fighting against the fleshly nature of a human frame of thinking. As I said in my previous post, I’m studying the Book of Enoch. There is so much to learn about the afterlife.

I never know who will be reading this blog, so I am only going to say I am glad to have reestablished my relationship with the younger of my two sons. Sadly, though, his wife of twenty years left him to go find herself. They have a daughter who is about nineteen years old. She grew up way to quickly for me. She is a beautiful woman now. Today is a bright day for me. My son is coming with his new lady. She is Indonesian. I have no problem with that. She’s a smart, intuitive person. She’s very observant. My son loves her. He says she is smarter than he is, and he loves the challenge she presents him with. Her name is Komala. My wife and I have previously met them for lunch in Raleigh. I’m eager to get to know more about her. We’re going for lunch today. My son’s previous wife came to visit us before they got married. Her mom and step-dad came along. I could tell they thought little of me. I didn’t have enough money for them. Their family was rather well-off. The grandmother was a high-up muckety-muck matriarch. She could barely see us over her nose. She was late for the wedding because she got stopped for speeding in the little speed trap town of Holly Ridge, coming up from Wilmington. Our military town was not to her liking, and our little place was certainly not fitting for her. Anyway, I like Komala much better. I am pretty sure her family still lives in Indonesia. She recently went back there to visit.

Let’s move on. Libby and I are ministers in our church. Libby heads the group labeled as SALT, which stands for Seasoned Adults Living Triumphantly. She is looking to perform a marriage in the next month or so. I’m still performing my duties as a Chaplain as requested. I talk to anyone and everyone who will listen to me. Aside from that, I mow the church lawn and perform security duties for the church during services. I’m mostly floating around. I help people who encounter spiritual or mental issues during a service.

I attended a Catholic memorial service this past Monday for a close friend of mine. He was forty-eight. Cancer took him way too soon. He was a fire station Captain aboard Camp Lejeune. He had a well-represented contingency of firemen from the base. Whenever he introduced me to a friend of his I had not met he would always tell them I taught him how to invite God into his meditation time with a noticeable presence. I tell anyone that asks that for this to happen, all one has to do is surrender themselves in the moment and sit quietly listening and inviting Him to come into the space around us. He was a good student. As I told my wife, the way to hear God is to be quiet. When we get quiet, God has the floor to speak. You will be amazed at how much God will share with you if you listen more than you speak. Cory was always seeking God, and I give him credit for his hunger to get closer to God.

I suppose that is why I’ve gotten quiet. God has spoken to me. I’ve learned so much more doing this.