Yesterday, December 27, I turned seventy-three years of age. I have exceeded by three the proverbial "three-score and ten" years. (Psalm 90:10). I honestly don't know how a seventy-three year old is supposed to feel and act. Some days I feel like a hundred, and some days I probably act like a six-year-old! Overall, however, I feel good and maintain a relatively healthy pace of various activities. In all of my seventy-three years, I have never spent but one night in the hospital. I was not even born in a hospital, but in my grandfather Fulford's farm home in Geneva County, Alabama. As the title of my autobiography (Hester Publications, 2007) says, "The Lord Has Been Mindful of Me."
As all my family and friends know, my adult life has been spent as a preacher of the gospel. From about the age of twelve or thirteen that is all I ever wanted to be. Around the age of thirteen or fourteen, while working as a "flunky" in a drug store, the owner told me he would send me to the University of Florida if I would study pharmacy. While I later realized that he probably was just "blowing smoke," the idea of someone paying my way to college was flattering, but becoming a "drug dealer" really had no appeal
to me! If it was the Lord's will, I would be a preacher.
For over forty-two years, beginning at the age of twenty, I served churches of Christ as a full-time minister. I have had a wide and interesting range of experiences. But then so has everyone else who has preached that long. I do not consider my accomplishments unusual. I have baptized or been responsible for the baptism of several hundred people. I have influenced a few others to become gospel preachers. None of the churches I preached for died "on my watch." Most of them showed steady growth—in numbers, contributions, and spirituality. Of course, we did not keep all whom we baptized, all whom we restored, or all who placed membership. All of my sermons did not suit everyone who heard them. I did not always "hit a home run" from the pulpit. Sometimes it was just a single or a bunt. Sometimes I struck out!
I still preach part-time for a small rural church a few miles from my home. I continue to preach in meetings, speak on lectureships, and fill special speaking engagements. I do not intend to stop preaching and teaching until the Lord calls me home, or the frailties of body or mind make it impossible for me to do so. Old preachers never retire; they just go on…and on…and on!
I continue to read and study. I continue to write. I am an active member of an internet Restoration Movement History discussion group. Jan and I continue to take care of a 2600 square foot house located on an acre lot. I have a lot of grass to mow and shrubbery to trim, as well as a large deck and a board fence to maintain. I am ready when spring rolls around to get out and get started on these jobs. By the end of June, I am ready for them to end! As my friend Frank Richey says, "Growing old is not for sissies!"
Our son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren live nearby. Having them close is a tremendous comfort. We retired early and moved back to Tennessee just so we could be near them.
As I enter year seventy-four, I do so optimistically. I frequently pray for the Lord to allow Jan and me to continue to live, to love, and to serve. But I can count, and I know that I am on the backside of the hill of life. This year friends my age and younger have crossed the river. In time, the boatman will come for me…and for us all. "So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (Psalm 90:12).
Hugh Fulford
December 28, 2010
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