Planted

 August 3, 2021

Perhaps the greatest danger in retirement is to stop living before you die. Like the runner who celebrates before crossing the finish line, only to be passed by the second or even third place runner, when the finish line looms within sight, it’s easy to let up. At such times, it’s good to remember my nephew’s maxim: “Second place is first loser.”

Psalm 92:13-14 says, “Those who are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing.”

It isn’t written in stone that old age must be a debilitating decline into senility and infirmity, listlessly waiting for the grim reaper. Sadly, too many walk that dark path through no fault of their own, while others hasten it by poor life choices. None of us knows for sure what path God has chosen for us, but I am counting on this promise of fruitfulness in old age. Even if I am unable to physically do what once came easy to me, I can flourish in the courts of God. Though the flesh may fail, the spirit can continue growing till we take our final breath. 

Weariness dogs my steps. At times, I have to force myself to get moving, but I do it because I believe the Scriptures that tell me I am an “oak of righteousness, a planting of the Lord” (Isaiah 61:3), and whatever God plants, he intends to flourish. At 97, my mother told me, “I don’t know when I stopped getting old and became old.” I am working on it, but am not there yet, and don’t plan on making that transition any time soon. God planted me here in Sinclairville forty years ago; my roots have grown deep, and my hope and intent is to flourish and bear fruit. Who knows? God may pull me up and plant me somewhere else, but planted I am, and with God’s help, fruitful I intend to be.