My Cronies and I Talk

I have lunch every Thursday with a couple of men I affectionately call, “my cronies.” We meet at Olive Garden and order the same thing every week. Salad with lots of cheese; soup, two pasta e fagioli and one minestrone, each with cheese; two diet Cokes and a water with lemon; and a handful of individually wrapped chocolate mints.

We aren’t that rigid in choosing subjects for our conversation although we generally like to imagine what God would say on whatever subject we lay on the table.

We have talked about our children, our grandchildren, and everybody younger than 60. We occasionally talk about politicians but most of the time we steer away from subjects that might raise our blood pressure. Neither do we waste our breath reviewing the lives of Oprah, Imus, or Brittney but leave those discussions to those who have an interest in or care about celebrities. What we do talk about is ourselves. A lot!

You see, we are guys who haven’t got life and our place in it all figured out yet. Life expectancy tables urge us to think more deeply about issues we once skirted and postponed. Some of those ignored issues have now become issues that can be categorized as “end of life issues.” We have compared notes about how we have dealt with our slide into “not as good as it was” physical health. We find it amusing that a few brief words from one of us about a prostate exam, colonoscopy, or his bladder capacity enhances our privacy by eliminating deliberate eavesdropping.

But committed eavesdroppers don’t give up so easily. One day they might hear us confess of dumb things we did long ago when we knew everything. On another day, our discussions might be about relationships we have nurtured or destroyed. Although divorce, indiscretions, and infidelities are deeply personal issues, they are not prohibited in our noontime fellowship. Without fail, reflecting on those unpleasant subjects leads my cronies and me to conclude that we have been blessed by mercy, especially from those who love us most.

Besides physical health and lifestyle issues, our conversation often wanders into spiritual realms. The unspoken motive that begins most of these spiritual discussions is rooted in a search for an honest answer to the question, “Am I making any progress in my walk with Jesus?”

I recently told my cronies about my desire to make a strong finish in my race to heaven. Influenced by an old preacher who prayed, “Lord, don’t let me drown close to shore,” I have used his imagery in more than one circumstance to guide me. I have always understood the old preacher’s desire not to drown in shallow water after a long and tiring swim because he could have stopped swimming and just walked to shore.

My cronies and I talked about the tasks that were finished before we recognized the struggle was over. I sometimes keep working as though more effort is needed even though it’s not. The time is at hand when I should stop swimming because I’m in shallow water and could walk out of the water if I only stopped swimming.

There comes a time when parents have to quit protecting and providing for their children. The parenting job is finished and parents need to stop the life-saving rescue.

There are times when a retiree is merely wasting energy to continue striving to make a better widget, improve working conditions, or earn more money.

Church members are sometimes made weary by the effort to maintain successful, but old programs, instead of letting those who just fell out of the boat do the swimming in new waters.

As I float on my back, headed toward shore, its nice to see and talk with friends who are as wrinkled as I am because we have been in the water too long.

Are you swimming or walking?