Like tendrils of mist it comes creeping along, trailing out behind me. Swirling at my feet. I fear that if I’m still too long it will overtake me and take hold-this thing called aging.
It carries along with it various infirmities. Each one different, each one of us immune or subject to one or another.
They take silent hold on our lives, strands in the web of life. Slowing us down. Holding us back. Creating drag on forward momentum.
The mirror reflects the gradual change that’s been happening since we were born. Sometimes the speed of the change slows down or speeds up. Suddenly, one day, a look and we don’t quite recognize the face that looks back. More gray, a crease or crevice there, a dark spot that wasn’t there yesterday, a tiredness in the eyes.
Eyes that say “slow down. You need rest.” The body agrees; and less and less is accomplished.
All the while the mind bounds full tilt toward life like a dog greeting its owner at the end of the day.
So much to say. So little time. The words spin around in my head. I grasp at one here, another there. Finally a sentence is formed. If I rush, the wrong words tumble out. Safer to write them down.
Then sabotaged by the relentless spellchecker and auto-correct.
Can’t win.
It’s not until we see death approaching from a distance that we kick into high gear and have so much we want to say, to do, to see, to share with those we will be leaving here to soldier on in our wake.
How do we make the most of it then? How do I?
I find that I must grasp the moment I’m given and hold on. I must speak the words that matter. Must tell the next generation.
They must know Who they believe.
“This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual realities with Spirit-taught words.”- 1 Corinthians 2:13
“I want you to recall the words spoken in the past by the holy prophets and the command given by our Lord and Saviour through your apostles.”- 2 Peter 3:2