SIR 2

In light of the amazing response toward my last blog post titled 'HON' -- and mostly because I'm just feeling righteously ornery today -- I thought I'd do something I've never done in eight years of blogging -- except for those other two times I did it -- and that's recycle one of my own posts.

I sat down to write this as a legitimate follow-up to 'HON,' but as I began, it dawned on me at some point that I'd already said this somewhere sometime.  So I searched back and 'Bam!'  Sure enough.  I had.  Six years ago.

So without further delay or adieu (and I don't even know that means but I know people say it a lot) -- I submit to you the MALE version of 'HON' ... with some slight revisions ... 

I have been going to the gym now for several years.  I'm sure you realized that.  I'm not trying to be hulk-like or anything.  But I go ... for a few reasons ...

It's a place I can interact with unbelievers on a regular basis ...

It's a way to keep in reasonably good health ...

It relieves my stress ...

It keeps what God has given me somewhere in the vicinity of where it all originally started out.

When I first walked into the gym years ago, I'll admit it was a little intimidating ... standing next to some 23-year old with muscles out to here ... then over there is a woman who is bench pressing 40 pounds more than me ... and there's the group from the Carthage University wrestling team who look like they gargle with nails just for fun.  

Then there's me.  I didn't even know what most of the gym workout machines were for but I learned by reading and watching other people's form and function.  I love being there now.

Over time I've become a regular.  The gang knows and accepts me as part of the wallpaper.  And as I'm changing in the locker room, it has become my pattern to say a pre-workout prayer: "God, open a door of opportunity today to share the reason for the hope that is in me."

Then if God opens a door, I walk thru it with some normal conversation about Him.  If He doesn't open a door, then I just work out. 

Over the years I've had many opportunities to have one-on-ones about faith and God.  It's been cool. 

But there is one negative about going to the gym.  Here it is in a real-life episode.

The hallway going in and out of the locker room is only big enough for one at a time so it isn't unusual for somebody to have to give way to somebody else to get in and out.  So one day I'm coming out of the locker room while a young athlete is going in.  He stops to let me pass first and says: "After you, sir."

SIR?  Do I look like a 'sir' to you?  I mean isn't 'SIR' reserved for men who have forests of hair inside their ears?  Come over here and look in my ears right now.

I wanted to say: "Boy, don't call me SIR.  You want a whuppin?'"  But the skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his 17-inch bicep kind of gave me pause.

I know it's vain of me to care about such things -- and I think the Bible talks about that somewhere.  I can't really find it right now, but I may have speed read that verse a few times here and there.  

I realize I'm in the age range of legitimate 'SIRS,' and it would be wrong to call me 'Hey, Butch' at my age, but I don't feel like a 'SIR' either.  Glass half full -- at least they aren't calling me 'ma'am.'

It's just a "thing" and I have to learn to deal with it.  You might feel the pain one day and empathize - you probably will - like when you're coming out of Express Men with that shirt in your hand and someone says: 'I hope that shirt is for your grandson and not for you ... Sir.'

And I guess that's basically why I'm at the gym in the first place ... to keep 'Sir-hood' at bay as long as I can. 

And be blessed.