Download Free Audio of Part I. The process of aging Some initial insights... - Woord

Read Aloud the Text Content

This audio was created by Woord's Text to Speech service by content creators from all around the world.


Text Content or SSML code:

Part I. The process of aging Some initial insights which validate the consensus of the aging process. Not necessarily "bad," they represent confirming signs of the inevitable design weakness. The blame can be traced back to the bad choices made by the originally created models shortly after their creation. Chapter 1 Evidence aging is happening The Pillowcase Stood before the mirror this morning- Shirt off-only me being revealed. What's that slightly wrinkled patch I see? My goodness, there's two sorta matching areas. Just at my waistline, on either side of my belly. Maybe I can just smooth them out- A slight effort at that produced a shock. That's loose flesh-sorta like a slippery pillowcase might feel. Ninety years and my flesh is loosing its memory. It never use to permit itself to drift into little piles-instead springing back, resisting the making of any wrinkled statements. If not lost memory, then maybe it's my pride of taut vigor. The Lord has dealt with other areas of my pride, maybe His design includes the consequence of years lived. Where what His Spirit has not been able to do His design has accomplished without my consent. My old pillowcase is still doing its job- Maybe it's not lost its memory- For which I'm thankful. Like me, it still has fond memories of a bygone day. Relic "You were born in 1930?" the cashier exclaimed incredulously. She was probably in her late teens and had just checked my ID as she rang up my wine purchase at a Tennessee Walmart. The young, twenty-first-century edition gave a wide-eyed look at the ancient, living, breathing relic across the counter from her. I chuckled, “Yep, older than dirt." After leaving the store, I got to thinking: maybe the dirt remark wasn't too far off base. As a teen, I had worked horses, not a tractor, on the family farm-plowing, cultivating corn, and hauling hay. In high school, I traveled a mile to catch the bus each day. I walked or rode my horse the distance, my own