I had the opportunity to have lunch with an old friend this week. We hadn’t seen each other in about forty years. We became friends in elementary school, renewed acquaintances as young adults, and (like a lot of folks) lost track of each other. Recently we reconnected on Facebook. (Complain as we might against Facebook, this is definitely one of its perks).
As you can imagine, we had a lot of catching up to do. Marriages, grandkids, life events, etc. were all on the table. We found we still had a lot in common and did a lot of laughing and commiserating while chowing down on some Italian cuisine (a heritage we both share as well).
A Hilarious Time of Life
One thing we found we had in common was our new calendar. As it turns out, we both know the day of the week by using our pillboxes. Discovering that little tidbit of info caused us to break out into a belly laugh. Being sixty-nine can be a hilarious time of life.
I don’t take much medication (mostly supplements), but I always know what day it is because of my weekly pillbox. You may have seen these handy-dandy little inventions. Many of you probably use them. They have seven square compartments labeled S-M-T-W-T-F-S respectively. Since my retirement, they have, collectively, become my weekly calendar. This will probably hold true until my brain faculties begin to fade.
I have an iCalendar as well, but I don’t always remember to look at it. My pillbox, on the other hand, is a staple at breakfast-time. I grab a cup of coffee and my prefilled dispenser of daily supplements. If I hadn’t known what day it was prior to breakfast, pill time usually gets me back on track.
Time is such a funny thing. Like most westerners, I rely on knowing the date and time for almost everything. I’m one of those guys who wears a watch and has a clock in almost every room of the house—including my garage and workshop. I don’t always remember to look at them, but those chronometers are there just in case (and kind of a pain when seasonal time changes occur).
The Church is no Exception
Sometimes, I think we take this time thing a bit too seriously though. The church is no exception. And occasionally, it does more harm than good. I like it when worship services start on time, but there are a lot of inconsistencies beyond that.
For example: We tend to celebrate the birth of our Savior on December 25 regardless of what day of the week it falls on. Why? We don’t even know when Jesus was born (no one has discovered his birth certificate as yet). Why does it have to be December 25?
Conversely, we always celebrate Easter on a Sunday, but it’s tough to nail down. It’s almost never on the same date twice. It can range from March 10 to April 25. Frankly, it’s a bit much. I’m thinking the church should start using a pillbox.
[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]