So, Tuesday night-Wednesday morning I dd it again. For the fourth time in five years I contracted (was diagnosed with) pneumonia -- this time under the right ribs. This time I had a mild case I only thought I was working with The Times-Picayune, and didn't see or talk to aliens or Muslims didn't take over the world in a very elaborate plan as in a delirium I thought last time, and this time I did't talk to my son who wasn't there or., and this time I didn't have my daughter demand in unflattering strong and loud terms that the nurses tell the family what the heck was wrong with me since I was as loopy as Sponge Bob).
Still, I was delirious for two or three hours, and coughed up five or six lungs I reckon, off, and well, you get the picture.
This time we added a few things, though, to the mix, something old and something new. This time I had a temperature of 103. Also, I got up in the middle of the night (I think it was the middle of the thing as it was darker than the sun on Pluto -- I think it was Pluto) and my right knee simply collapsed. It just said, goodbye and folded up like one of those outside chairs, and suddenly I was a heap with limbs hither and yon. Because of that implosion, I banged my head on the floor and instantly I sued the NFL
Now, No doctor has ever told me how this happens or why I've gotten pneumonia or why pneumonia begins with a p instead of an n, but I keep on keeping on getting this. I assume at some point it will be the end of me, but no one has said that either.
I fought my wife about going to the emergency room, as I always do, but when I got there, hey give me oxygen, they drew out fluid, they whacked me around like a piñata and I got better (this time in but a day -- again, a milder case) and here we go again.
This time I just needed rest (Odin sleep?), and this time I was mostly through with my sermon because it was a Wednesday, and this time I was mostly finished with the slides for my powerpoint Sunday, so this time I was mostly finished with the service for Sunday because it as a Wednesday. It was a Wednesday, right?
I move on to finishing the blog for Thursday. It is Thursday, right?
The point of all this is simple. None of us know when we will reach a time when all our troubles aren't so far away. None of us know when there will come a moment when we reach a time when we run smack dab into the final time, the final breath (and all that delirious-ness I run into from time to time is caused by lack of breath they tell me) is but a final breath away.
We can fight it all we want, push, struggle, beat and bang like One Direction band mates and oh, but that I do. But there might come a point where I'm sitting into front of a Mac or a PC or even (God forbid) a typewriter and I type my last word, my last letter and I reach for that breath and suddenly I hit a P or an R and that, my friends, is I T.
When that happens, like the Apostle Paul, I will be filled (if it's on the intake) with oxygen and then I will release that breath with an outpouring with joy.
Paul said it like this: For to be with Christ is gain.
In other words, I love being with my family, with my church family, with my friends outside the church, but to be with Christ is so much better. All is gain, all is great, all is wonderful. Either here on the planet or there with my family is great. It's all great.
Whatever may come is great.
I'll miss writing, though. Maybe I'll do a heavenly blog. Got to get the job, though. There sure are a long list of folks to beat out. Whipping Paul for the job might be too much for me. He's pretty darn good, don't you think?