For some reason, I remembered and got to thinking the other day about practicing for the high jump when I was an eighth grader. We had two poles, actually, I think they were broken shovel handles, driven into the grand a little bit, and then we had a straight willow limb sitting on top of the two poles. We would back up enough to get a good run and jump over the willow limb without knocking it off of the poles onto the ground. We used the old style of high jumping where you kicked your leading foot and leg up over the bar and rolled over the bar, in our case, a willow stick, belly down. The reason that came to mind was I was thinking how falling down is a continual danger now and when I do fall down I almost always end up with a significant bruise and a very painful “owie.” When we were practicing the high jump we were jumping over a limb about four feet off of the ground and landed on the ground on our back or shoulder. We would practice for hours and I don’t remember that we ever complained about the hard ground or about being sore from our landings. If I were able to do that now after landing on the ground it would knock the wind out of me, it would then take two people to help me get back on my feet, I would not be able to walk the next day, and I would be taking four Ibuprofen tablets every four hours for days after that successful jump! What changed? Old age. Learning to live with accelerating limited physical abilities is a way of life now. The biggest challenge is adjusting to this change with grace and joy. It is a whole lot easier to preach about doing it than it is to do it, for sure. But I think about and daydream about heaven and my new glorified body more and more with every passing day.