breakfast at epiphanies

As I sat down for breakfast this morning, I had another epiphany. I don’t know what’s causing this. Maybe it’s my age. Some guys get sports cars and trophy wives. I get epiphanies (and everyone who’s met my wife agrees, I definitely “married up”…WAY up, so trophies would be a downgrade). The dictionary defines epiphany as “a sudden intuitive leap of understanding, especially through an ordinary but striking occurrence.” I guess this makes me Captain Epiphany. I am fascinated by the ordinary.

The fact that I even sat down for breakfast was what prompted this particular “striking occurrence.” I just realized something strange…

I don’t feel old. I should, but I don’t.

For most people breakfast wouldn’t be the source of such an amazing revelation. But, this morning, as I sat down to eat my carefully prepared, two eggs, half a piece of wheat toast, exactly four ounces of orange juice, and eight ounces of milk it hit me...I’m doing a lot of stuff older people do, but I just don’t feel old.

Sure, there were times when breakfast meant filling a cafeteria sized mixing bowl with Cap’n Crunch accompanied by a delicious stack of buttermilk pancakes, and chased down with gigantic swigs of whole milk straight from the carton. Sometimes my breakfast of choice consisted of leftover pizza and fruit loops, eaten at noon. I was young and carefree, with the metabolism of a hummingbird. But those were the choices that got me where I am today...Curt Sell: Plus Sized Male Model.

That seems like such a long time ago. So, why don’t I feel old?!?

My mind began to rationalize, “Maybe I’m NOT old. Maybe these things I’m doing aren’t old people things. Maybe they’re the hottest new trends and I’m on the cutting edge. Maybe I’m retro. Maybe….”

I allowed myself to indulge in this fantasy as I carefully folded the comic page and began to work on the daily crossword puzzle…like I do every morning…while I eat my my carefully prepared, two eggs, half a piece of wheat toast, and drink exactly four ounces of orange juice, and eight ounces of milk.

"This needs to stop!" I chastised myself. With reckless abandon, I snatched up my mp3 player and started to listen to some of my favorite music. The unfettered musical stylings of TobyMac, Switchfoot, and Telecast blasted into my ears.

“See? I’m NOT that old” I convinced myself, “Old people don’t listen to this kind of music do they?”

It WAS a little loud though, so I turned it down...just a bit. “No sense ruining my hearing. You know, you only get two ears…”

As the recognition that I had just quoted my dad TO MYSELF struck me, I suddenly became conscious of where I was. Without even thinking or planning, I was on my daily walk! Not a daily RUN, not a daily JOG, but a daily WALK. I walk! I’m a walker! When I run, my joints hurt because I have a type of arthritis that hits young people…that’s what my rheumatologist told me anyway. Wait, I have my own rheumatologist?

Okay, I admit it I’m getting older. There I said it! It feels good to admit that. I think it helps to let it all out, so here goes…

-- There’s about as much hair on my head as there is grass in my front yard.

-- All the hair that used to be on my head has packed itself into my nose, ears and eyebrows.

-- I groan when I get up from the bed or sit down in the car.

-- I drive the speed limit and buckle my seat belt…every time!

-- I embarrass my kids with my puns.

-- I tell the same stories over and over, but don’t remember it.

-- I eat salad for lunch.

-- I called an old friend from college, and when he asked if I could still dunk a basketball, I just laughed…and laughed…and laughed…then I forgot what I was laughing about.

-- My wife and I go to Chevys and order the same thing on every date (during happy hour to save money). Our server, Melania, knows us by name.

-- To me, “hitting the town” means catching a few garage sales on the way to Starbucks.

-- I tell the same stories over and over, but don’t remember it.

So why don’t I feel old?

Could it be immaturity? Maybe, but I really hope not. I think I feel young because I feel like I have so far to go and so much to learn. A couple weeks ago I heard a sermon that highlighted the differences between being childish and being childlike. People who are childish, stop maturing and growing, while those who are childlike resemble sponges, soaking in each new experience. They mature each day, putting childish ways behind them, but still they experience the world around them with wide eyed wonder.

I hope I never grow up.

Well, I gotta run. “Perry Mason” is on.



(to download an mp3 of Josh White's sermon,
entitled "Faith Like Henry," click here)