Image by Lorraine Cormier from Pixabay
Based on my family’s history, I have about twelve years to go before I die.
Ninety years old seems to be the magic number for my family’s longevity index. So, it comes down to this – what the heck do I do with the next twelve years?
What I thought I’d be doing is traveling, biking, fishing, boating, shooting sporting clays, eating and drinking to my heart’s content. But some power greater than me conspired with my mind, body, and spirit to shelve what I thought my “twilight years” would be.
Instead, at 71 (almost 72) I am reimagining myself and redirecting my efforts at attending to that very same mind, body, spirit dynamic. On many days, I am not sure I know how to proceed.
As many of you know I started this blog back in 2016 to write about the Power and Promise of Hope. My default vision was pinned to this statement – every life should have a noble purpose. And as you know I believe my purpose is to attend to the suffering of others in ways that are consistent with my gifts and talents.
Through the gracious comments of former students and former members of churches I have served I have been surprised and humbled by the lessons learned that those folks have attributed to me. Many of my former students have gone on to great things in their lives. They are accomplished gentlemen and gentlewomen. Many of them have nurtured their own families to wonderful effect.
Many former members of churches I have served have continued their faith journeys and deepened their believe in God and the Spirit. Many of those folks have gone on to serve the needs of others as they minister to those who are often forgotten and discarded.
I am inspired by the compassion and the wisdom all of these folks have woven into their lives. They are bringing out the best in others. They have become beacons of hope in a world that so needs decency and civility. I am indeed blessed to have known (to know) so many amazing folks.
A week or so ago I wrote a blog dealing with the topic of truth telling and personal integrity. That blog was uncharacteristically dark and UNHOPEFUL in its tone. In all the anxiety around me, I temporarily lost my way.
It is the memory of my former students and church members that has brought me back.
Those young kids I taught have become doctors, lawyers, teachers, coaches, entrepreneurs, moms and dads, religious leaders, and politicians. They have become their best selves.
Former church members have gone on to do the work of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, giving drink to the thirsty and visiting those who find themselves in places where people end up and are usually forgotten. They bring hope and compassionate care and love to the least, the last, and the lost.
Wherever I look, I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses to the greatness of the human spirit and an appropriation of the power and promise of hope.
So I do not despair at not being able to accomplish the activities I thought would bring me pleasure – the biking, fishing, etc. I sit here at the keyboard, feeling blessed and overcome by those who actively and intentionally transcend and add to their own pursuits to be of assistance to others, even to me.
I have twelve years (or twelve minutes) left in this life. Those who are coming after me, especially my former students and church members, have gifted me with peace. I am indeed a fortunate man, a man of faith and a man of belief in the power and promise of hope.
“The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.” (Arnold H. Glasow 1905-1998)