So, it happened. I could not stop it. At 10:05 a.m. on Sunday, February 6th, I turned 41. I don't care for it. The number that is. My life seems good. I like where I am in my life and my surroundings. I like that I get to pastor a flock of God's people. I like life, but the fact that every day I get closer to the time I am leaving this life is a bit unsettling. It doesn't help that I have buried about 5 people since I've come here. Life is so short. We really do have to make every minute count.
Is it time for me to get a red sports car? No. I couldn't afford the insurance anyway. I'm not sure how I feel about getting old. Maybe I don't like it at all. Maybe I'd prefer to ignore it. Not totally sure. My judgement for the 41st is just up in the air a bit. Odd.
I found it strange that 30 and 40 did not bother me. But 31 and 41 did.
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