​This morning I was talking to a friend about how I’ve been feeling old recently.  My whitened beard, weakened eyes, and creaking bones were not unexpected developments, but I never imagined that I’d find myself in possession of a hoary old soul.  That’s just not me.

Or at least, I thought it wasn’t me, but for months lately, I wasn’t just tired, I was weary.  And not just me–the whole world was worn out, exhausted.  Things seemed grayer, colder, less themselves. I plodded on (what else could I do?), but this uncharacteristic weariness was worrisome.

I’ve always thought of myself as a young man–Chestertonians don’t grow old; they grow merry, but I was slowly turning into a grouchy old grump.  Needless to say, this was a disorienting experience for me.

I’ve been following God for a long time. I have had countless, dramatic, first-hand  experiences of His fidelity; I’ve learned to rely on Him for daily bread (literally), to  trust Him for one step’s worth of light, and to walk by faith not sight. In my many years of following Jesus, I’ve experienced my fair share of dark days (and “dark nights”), but nothing prepared me for the Gray–the entropic “meh” that filled my waking hours.

I’m improving now–this is what I was telling my friend–my strength is being renewed, thanks be to God.  It turns out most of my malaise was rooted in my poor physical health (more on this in a later post–this one has already taken more time than it was worth).  Anyway, I’m finally taking care of myself and I’m already reaping the benefits.  I’ve lost 11 pounds or so in the past week and a half, I’m eating better, and sleep has once again become refreshing.  The best benefit so far is that I seem to be less anxious–in spite of having all the same financial woes and worldly worries.  This is weird, but welcome.  Tomorrow I may go back to being an anxious, muddle-headed mess, but for now, I’m doing alright.