Sunday, August 6, 2017

“For everything in life there is always a beginning and an end. The tough part is that when you get old, you can see it coming: The end.” ― Seve Ballesteros

I don’t often put my deepest thoughts into words, but for today, I did.  I call this:  “On Growing Old, Nearing An End”

When days become things you just endure, and the nights are worse, as sleep seldom comes and when it does, never longer than an hour at a time—you wonder.
When your parents and all those close friends that made you laugh and learn have gone and left you alone with nothing but memories—you wonder.
When the good that you do seems so very far away and hardly even the result of your touch at all—you wonder.
When the things that used to bring you joy and the thrill of anticipation can no longer be yours as your body begins to resemble an old piece of furniture on which it is no longer safe to sit—you wonder.
When simple pleasures are beyond your reach and all your money goes to help those in greater need than you—you wonder.
When you are surrounded by an alien language and culture that intrudes and makes life even more difficult than it already is—you wonder.
When even God seems to be away visiting His other friends and has left you without a reason to continue—you wonder.

It’s then that wondering makes the words of Job become more than marks on a page, and “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, Blessed be the name of the Lord” becomes your mantra for your remaining days or years.
  
It’s then that seeing new flowers being planted outside your bedroom door brings you more joy than you would have ever thought possible.

It’s then that “thank you” notes from God keep you going beyond your own desire to do so, and you realize those who send them like Cami, and Michael, and Brenda, and Martin are really angels in disguise.

It’s then that you realize you are not the master of your fate and the captain of your soul but a passenger on a journey whose end you do not know.

It’s then that you submit, would drop to your knees if you could get back up, but bow your head and acknowledge “Not my will, but Thy will be done” and you stop wondering and just get on.

It’s then that your just “getting on” makes you a role model for all who suffer and wonder—no matter their age, and you smile, just a small smile, but a smile.
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