Earlier in the spring I learned that my resting heart rate hovers around 34-36 beats per minute. Interesting. I knew that it used to be in the 50’s and 60’s in my 30’s. I suppose that’s a fair turn of events, now that I’m in my 50’s my heart beats in the 30 bpm range.

I used to wait for my dad. A lot. Sometimes for long periods of time as he had a propensity of forgetting me or for at least forgetting that I was with him, waiting. Out of sight, usually in the car while he was inside someone’s home partaking of the brotherhood of the Lord. Spreading the gospel so to speak.

That is probably when my body learned to practice its own kind of gospel or spiritual practice. To this day, I am an excellent wait-for-others. A superior wait I can do. While my heart beats on.

Slowly.

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