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Me

Today, once again, I grinned at the questioner with a very simple reply in return: “Guess.”

She paused, studied my face for a moment, and said, “Nineteen?”

I laughed, actually a little flattered, “Twenty-seven….”

Though the calendar tells me my age is twenty-seven, I actually feel somewhere between seventeen and twenty. Perhaps it is partly because I have such memory deficits. I don’t know. I do know I am a little surprised — though, I must admit, not altogether displeased — that my appearance apparently yet bears such a youthfulness. The oldest that anyone has every guessed my age is twenty-five — and then they said it was on account of my carriage, because I looked a little younger than that. It is especially poignant to me in light of the fact that just two years ago, I was told by a doctor that my blood labwork closely resembled that of a ninety-five-year-old woman in a nursing home. I believe that it must be much, much better than that now, for I felt already half-dead at that point — and now, by the grace of God, my body often actually feels alive again. I had forgotten what that is like. This is rather a recent development in my healing from Lyme and Co. — one I am quite thankful for.

Just yesterday, some one else surmised that I was about nineteen. Last week, it was twenty. And just a couple of weeks ago, it was seventeen. I was apparently sixteen for ten years — and now it seems I have apparently been about twenty for four years, so far — if one is to believe appearances.

Appearances can most certainly be deceiving, and my age is simply one example of this. I most certainly do not intend to deceive in this — for, when I look in the mirror, I see a young lady in her mid-twenties. I even have one grey hair — but the only thing that surprises me about that is the fact that there is only one that I am aware of. As ill as my body has been, I would not have been surprised it if all had turned grey. Most of it has fallen out a couple of times, so why would it have surprised me if it came back grey? I have had a taste of failing old age — “But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me” (Psalm 49:15). “Truly, no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life” (Psalm 49:7), but God has ransomed me and preserved me alive until this day, for his good purposes.

And that is just one of the multitude of reasons I have to praise my God….

Me, again

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