Make Some Groaning Noise


"I have decided to start groaning every time I have to move my body a little bit," for those who have old eyes like me. Comic from the New Yorker, the wittiest compendium of comics in the world.

The N.Y. articles will slay you with their depth and length....pondering and pounding...the comics however are pithy and witty. A refreshing breeze of funny than a full force gale of a storm of words. I would love to draw a comic but I can't draw. Not a good start.

Lina commented the other day that I need a larger car for my 6'8" frame than a Honda Civic. It is not that I don't fit in the car. I do, like a glove. It is just getting the glove on and off. Accompanying my gymnastics and gyrations, I groan. I actually groan and groan a lot everywhere. The friction of old age. As I write, my knee aches, my neck has a crick in it. My busted pinky on my right hand, smashed on my older brother's skull over 30 years ago, curls still in traumatic damage. The right side of my brain has a perpetual dull ache. Groaning is just part of the process of old age encountered experientially.

The world too groans, it is passing away. Far better to place our hope in a better place, to be with the eternal God. This world matters but it is not the final destination. Just passing through...and groaning all the way.  
          

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