3/8/24      Lent       Psalm 75 

My grandfather was eccentric. That is a nice word for “a little bit weird.” 😊  He was my mother’s father, we called him Papa, and by the time I came to know him, he worked as a trolley conductor in Cincinnati and a security guard. After a while, he and Nanny (we had very creative names) retired to an old farmhouse in Cynthiana, Kentucky. When we visited, Papa would sit in the living room with us, enjoying the conversation. He would begin to chuckle to himself. We knew a story was coming but first, he was telling it to himself and being fully entertained by it. He would tell this funny story that he had told 100 times, and we would all laugh as if we were hearing it for the first time. 

Later we would look up and Papa would be gone. He had enough of people for a while. He would go back into his room, shut the door and enjoy his own company until he was ready to come back out again. Even when “special” company was over, Nanny invited the preacher and her family, or the new people from the farm next to them, Papa had a limit on how much people time he would do. Nanny would be serving seconds of pie. The conversation would be lively. And Papa would excuse himself, slip to the back and just chill for a few minutes. 

The other funny thing he did was write. He attended God’s Bible School while they were in Cincinnati. He loved God, loved the Word, and loved to put thoughts down on paper. He wrote hundreds of short essays, poems, and little tracts, many by hand but mostly on an old typewriter. When I stayed there, sometimes in the middle of the night I would hear the clack-clack of that typewriter. I’d see the light from under the door of Papa’s “study,” and I would know he was doing another tract. I don’t know how many people ever read his writings, probably not many, but that’s not why he was writing. He wrote because God put something in his heart that he wanted to say. He wrote because he felt God wanted him to. He wrote because that’s who he was, and he was a little eccentric. 

WAIT A MINUTE…. 

I just realized I am describing myself to a tee. I do those exact same things. I love people, especially my family. I am delighted to have company. But I get peopled out and have to take a break. I tell stories to myself. (I usually crack myself up.) And I write, most of the time in the middle of the night, never sure if anyone will read it, but that’s not why I write. I HAVE BECOME MY ECCENTRIC OLD GRANDFATHER.  And my grandkids probably tell their friends that I am a little bit weird. 

Well, you might be asking what this has to do with the psalm of the day, Psalm 75. Nothing as far as I can tell. 😊 But what do you expect? I’m eccentric. But there is this, God says, in verse 2, of Psalm 75, “I choose the appointed time…” Whatever is happening in your life, whatever changes you are facing, whatever the reminders there are that you are growing older and becoming more like your grandparent, it is all in God’s hands. Of all the things He controls, time is the most amazing. You are exactly where you are today, doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing, because God chooses the time. The 139th psalm says, “All my days were ordered by You before I took my very first breath.” God owns time and that means all that you do, think, feel, and become is in His hands. When you rest in that there is peace. 

So don’t fret about the future. Don’t worry that you’re starting to look like your mother. Don’t get caught up in how many people are reading your stuff. Leave it with Him. In due time, He will “lift up your horn.” (verse 10) and everything will be okay. Now, please excuse me, I’ve had enough of you and I’m going to my room. 

BTW The picture is a poem my grandfather wrote. He had a beautiful signature.