Still breathing

"What good would it do a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?"

Have you ever been so grateful that gratitude pours out like summer rain, and at exactly the same time you're stupefied just what it was that happened that turned you into a grateful creature?

Yeah, me to.

Here's mine: Last fall I was a hurtin' puppy. I had, well, everything except cancer and as far as I know we haven't invited that creepy individual. I had four separate bouts with pneumonia, or one long one depending on how you view things. I had my kidneys come close to shutting down. I couldn't breathe at one point. Oh, and my heart rate flew up like a newspaper in a wind storm.

Twice I was told that death was close. Once I thought it might be best for everyone (that whole delirium thing). I had a pipe stuck down my throat and paddles punched an impression on my chest. 

I was a sick puppy.

Since then, everyone asks about my health. Everyone.

I'm not exactly sure where this whole notion of my health grew to the extent it has, but it has in spades (as they used to say). Every where I go, that's the question any and everyone asks.

Not, how are the churches? Not, how goes the ministry? Not, how goes the family. Not, well, you get the idea.

Part of me is overcome with joy. Part of me wonders. Through it all, though, it seems that the more folks ask, the more they care, and if that's the worst thing that comes from all the problems I had, well, that's pretty good.

Today, I go back to the lung feller, as Maynard G. Krebs might have said. dating myself completely. They're shooting pictures of my lungs to make sure nothing creepy is growing. I suspect nothing is.

So, keep asking, and I'll keep breathing.