ANOTHER SEASON

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

How long can we make this request? Is this an all-you-can-eat, daily-serving-at-a-time kind of thing?

Should; at some point our prayer be, “Lord you have given me daily bread every single day for so many days now. However, if you offer today’s portion I will take it, as a gift, without presumption.”

image “borrowed” from Molly Harris who also made the cool bread bag

Doug, my friend, mentor and sage, says that as we age we fall into the “medical vortex” of endless doctor’s appointments, tests, procedures, and on and on.

The band “Blood Sweat & Tears” had a song called “Spinning Wheel”. A snippet of the lyrics:

Drop all your troubles by the riverside
Catch a painted pony on the spinnin' wheel ride

They weren’t writing about the medical vortex. But at the ages they are now, surely they could see the relevance.

I mention this idea, because it is now my reality—one I don’t do well with. Some senior citizens seem to revel in the medical abyss, their lives happily dictated by their appointments and stuff.

I’m one of those who feels like every doctor delights in pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and poking, prodding or probing something, then writing a prescription with a never-ending list of side effects. Speaking of which, I always mute the every-growing abundance of prescription drug ads on TV. As a matter of fact, if I were the TV czar I would prohibit all medical related ads along with any ad where GMC has hoards of people carrying their pickup trucks tailgate up a hill.

Yesterday, I had one of those procedures. It was scheduled for a year ago, but COVID prompted hospitals to shut down “elective” surgeries and procedures. So, I’ve had a year to fret and stew about this one. Going in I knew there was “cause for concern” from an earlier screening test.

So, in these past few days I’ve worried and wondered—can you ask for daily bread again today and tomorrow and the next day? I mean, I know I can, but it’s just that I’ve been given so much. I’ve lived 70 abundant years, more than anyone deserves. Can I ask for a few more? Can I ask for another day, another serving of daily bread so to speak, when I’ve been given so much?

Last night, after a long nap to sleep off the anesthesia from the procedure, we watched the last few episodes of “Anne With An E” on Netflix. (Should I be admitting how much I enjoyed this series?) There were three seasons and I wanted more. I guess we always do. I wanted to see Anne and Gilbert married and having grandkids. I wanted to see more; more of my kids and grandkids living their lives. I wanted to take My Amazing-Missus on the road trips I have promised her which we’ve planned for years, which were stolen from us by COVID, ice storms, snow storms, etc.

But see. There I go. Wanting more. Another season.

We lived through the Siberian Blast. Our heat was on. Our pipes didn’t freeze. We didn’t have to boil our water. But I wanted more.

Somewhere near us lives a person with a Cadillac Escalade. It has a vanity tag that says, “BLESSED”. I assume they are referring to their Escalade. I wonder if there was room for more letters on their tag, would they go on to say: “This is enough. BUT, I would also like to have the daily bread (aka next year’s model).”

By the way. The procedure went fine. Everything is good. I get another season. I’m grateful and blessed. But, I will be grateful for tomorrow’s bread too. And if it’s not too much to ask: could we make it a biscut with gravy?