AAA

November 13, 2018

Pinching together the thumb and pinky finger of my left hand sends a shockwave through the base of the thumb to my wrist, and lifting my bass with my right hand sends the same kind of message from the outside of my wrist up my arm to my elbow. Welcome to AAA. No, it’s not the American Automobile Association, it’s age, aches, and arthritis. It’s somewhat worrisome to me; I like playing my bass in jazz band, and look forward to the day I can rejoin Park church’s worship team with it. But sometimes it hurts to play it.

On those nights when I wake up with my hands throbbing, I am faced with a choice. I can focus on myself and worry and complain, or I can look around me. My friend Pete has dealt with the pain of a bad back for as long as I’ve known him. Some years ago he showed up for the first time one Sunday morning for worship. “If I get up and walk around, I’m not trying to be rude; it’s just that sometimes I have to move.” I assured him he could walk around all he wanted. He’s had a variety of health issues, and last Saturday apparently had a medical emergency while driving. He didn’t survive. He was only 65.

My friend Rick is also 65. Three years ago while undergoing open heart surgery, he suffered a stroke that robbed him of left side mobility and speech. I have friends hobbling around on artificial knees and hips, others who move gingerly lest their back sends shock waves up and down their spines. Even my kids deal with aches and pains of which I know little, if anything. 

I’ll play my bass as long as I’m able, and thank God for each opportunity I am given to hold it and caress the strings. Some things are worth enduring a little pain. Being able to put it in perspective is a gift for which I am thankful tonight as once more I try to coax melody out of that old girl standing in the corner (the bass, not Linda!).