It's All a Matter of Perspective

I remember that when I was a kid, Nannie Summers, my maternal grandmother, often told me that as one gets older, time flies. I never understood that.

My Nannie Summers

It seemed to me that the months in school were interminable. I enjoyed school, but the days seemed to creep by. The summers working with my brick-mason father, mixing mortar and carrying bricks and rodding joints in the heat and dust, seemed even longer. And it seemed that Christmas would never get here.

Now, decades years later, I'm learning that Nannie was right. Although she never attended a day of formal schooling in her life, she was wise beyond any formal education. She knew whereof she spoke. Time does fly the older one gets.

Christmas 2025 is now behind us. A new year is before us. And things will no doubt go even faster in 2026.

Looking back at 2025, it was a painful year for me in several ways.

I had a number of friends taken from this life, a blessing for them but a sad loss for me. I'm learning that I now know more people in the "With the Lord" notices than in the wedding, birth, and life-achievements lists combined.

I also witnessed the failure of the publisher of several of my books, leaving me with only a handful of copies I can sell at my speaking engagements and an almost $500 loss from books I'd purchased from that publisher but never received.

It also was a year of health issues. I'm seldom sick, but 2025 started out with sickness. I caught the flu in February, fell due to being dehydrated, blacking my eye and hurting my back. Those were all temporary setbacks.

I did NOT try this remedy!

But then in March my back went out as I simply bent over to pick up a piece of lint on the floor. It had happened before and usually lasted a couple or three days before getting better. I thought nothing of it. But it began hurting so badly that I couldn't stand, not even long enough to shave. Self-treatment didn't work--and, believe me, I tried every ointment, cream, and folk remedy known to man (short of mustard and onion plasters). Everyone I knew seemed to have a sure-fire cure for my problem.

I finally broke down and went to a chiropractor. Chiropractic treatments had worked for me in the past. Maybe they would help this time, too. I was sure of it.

The chiropractors worked me over--five sessions--without improvement. They tried laser therapy--seven sessions--without noticeable improvement. I got my primary care physician to refer me for an MRI, which revealed a bulging disc and misaligned vertebrae in the lower back. He wanted to refer me for surgery, but that's where I drew the line. No surgery for me!

My problem involves the L5-S1 area.

Seeing no improvement, however, I was forced to give up my duties as a museum docent and my role as a guide in the soon-to-be-opened restored 19th-century Spring Park Inn. I sold the period costume I was to wear there and resigned my duties. More losses.

By this point, my situation mysteriously and suddenly reversed itself. Whereas before I couldn't stand, now I could no longer sit without pain. So I tried a different chiropractic practice that offered yet another form of treatment. Several people with whom I go to church had highly recommended it. So I began a program of 14 spinal decompression sessions (I called it "The Rack"), each followed by an adjustment, all designed to address the problem, which was in the L5-S1 area of the spine. That was followed by five more weekly adjustments.

I've finally gotten some relief (knock on wood). I usually now can go most of the day without some kind of pain killer. I can sit for short periods--provided I use a cushion. It no longer hurts to stand, albeit I must stand most of the time, and that can get tiring.

I admit that I still sometimes complain of pain, but through it all I've learned a powerful lesson about complaining. I often remind myself of the proverbial man who said, "I complained that I had no shoes until I saw a man who had no feet."

Other people have problems that are so much worse than mine, so I have no right to complain. Rather, I must thank God that I have so little of which to complain. (Not that I want more!)

I'm reminded of my blessings, and thoughts of my own ailments are decreased whenever I read an online update of Ciara D., a young lady, wife, mother of two active little boys, who had to have all four of her limbs amputated. Despite her limitations and challenges, she maintains a positive faith attitude that encourages others. She now even has a ministry, "Always Thankful," for that very purpose. She reminds me in many ways of Joni Erickson Tada. (You, too, can read about the illness that led to Ciara's amputations and follow her progress at this site: https://www.facebook.com/search/top?q=ciara%20%26%20colton%20updates%20.)

As I prepare to enter 2026, I have no idea what is in store. No one does. But, by the grace of God and with His strength, I hope to face whatever comes with positive faith and the assurance that He knows best. I have His promise that He will work all things together for my good and His glory (Rom. 8:28). Whatever might come, He has promised, "My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in [your] weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9).

It's all a matter of one's perspective.

Although I have no idea what 2026 holds, one thing I can be assured of--it will fly by!