"Just a Thought"

In addition to gardening tasks, the sewing machine is another place where I do a lot of thinking.  Recently I consented to be a vendor at a Christmas bazaar at the school one of my grandgirls attends, so I am at the machine, producing items to fill my space.

My son-in-law's aunt just had her 100th birthday, and the family celebrated by taking her bowling, one of her all-time favorite pastimes.  She's no patsy either--a video was shared as she threw the ball down the lane, resulting in a strike.  

I found myself thinking about this aunt while sewing.  100 years old!  My mind wandered to those whose lives are taken in infancy, youth, as young adults.  I think we, as humans, find it impossible to make sense out of this seeming discrepancy.  "Why," I asked, "are some lives so short?" 

Within a split second the answer:  "No lives are short.  They are all eternal." 

Something to think about.

"On Turning 70"

It happened once again; in fact, it happens almost every time I watch television in the evening.  I fell asleep.  I roused, realizing the need to head for bed and, as I did so, began unfurling my body.  Standing up and attempting to straighten, I thought, “Man, I really am acting like a 70-year-old.”

This landmark of a birthday is just around the corner for me.  I’ve been spending the past several months declaring “I’m almost 70.”  I do that every year, an acceptance of the approaching birthday.  By saying it aloud, there are no surprises, and, most certainly, no denial.  When it arrives, I simply step into it, a classification prepared and awaiting.  This year's exception, that of being 70. 

I know full well that age is just a number, so I have no problem with turning 70, and I am not fearful of death.  Several friends have preceded me in this turn of events, and I have supported them all.  I am discovering, however, that it is a different story when it is happening to me.

My mind is in a completely different place than it has been with any other birthday, and I find that to be a place of wondering,  with both conscious and unconscious considerations.   My thought as I crawled off the couch bears that out.

My father lived into his mid-80’s.  For what seemed like years prior to his death, I remember statements like, “This will be the last car I’m going to buy.  It’s going to last me until I die.”  And it did.  Those comments made me daft.  And yet, at almost-70, I find myself in that same line of thinking.  It isn’t something I am choosing, but the thoughts do come. Viewing life through the lens that carries with it the reality of the possibility of being "last" is a  new experience .

I find myself wondering how many more years are left for me on this earth, how many more years I will share in the lives of my grandgirls, what awaits me health-wise.  With no sense of being morbid, I wonder what is going to happen to me in these last years of physical life.  Oh, the thoughts that are stirred when one turns 70.

The older I have become, the fuller my life.  I discuss often with my Heavenly Father the fact that I want to continue learning, growing, becoming--I don’t want that to ever end.  I know I don’t have the truth of what my next life will be like, so I can only view it from this very limited perspective.

This much I know:  Life is life.  I will continue living it each and every step of the way.  And when that landmark birthday arrives, I shall treat it as a Rolodex file, one day flipping over into another and then another.  Life is good, and any way I look at it, the best IS yet to come.

  

"On Becoming as a Little Child"

He was exhausted, bone-weary, the clamor and crush of the crowds wearing. There was no question about His calling, His purpose, and yet there were times He longed for the solace and solitude of the shop, the place where chunks of wood were turned into creations of utility and beauty underneath His hands, before His eyes. That was where He had been taught, prepared for what was to come, where He visited with His Heavenly Father. It was a place of peace, of quiet. 

His physical body exuded strength, the muscles taut and sinewy, developed by wielding the primitive carpentry hand tools of His time. His spiritual body was fit as well, strong enough to face and withstand evil in its purest, rawest form.

The life of Jesus, the carpenter’s son, had changed dramatically, and He knew when it had happened: His baptism by John when the heavens opened, and the Spirit descended upon Him like a dove, followed by a voice declaring, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased"; the encounter with the enemy while in the desert for forty days; the first of many signs, when He went to a wedding with His mother and turned the water into wine.

Masses of people followed Him wherever He went, craving the teaching, bringing the sick to be healed, seeking deliverance from demons. While knowing He had been sent for mankind, the daily rigor and the relentless demands were tiring, the places of retreat minimal.

The children were a delight. They brought a smile to His face, made Him laugh, their purity and honesty evidenced. He loved watching them play, listening to their discussions and conversations. They weren’t there to test Him with religious or political questions; they didn’t ask Him to prove who He was or why He had come; they didn't bait Him with verbal traps. 

Parents began bringing their little ones to Him, asking that He bless them. The disciples who followed along beside Him expressed criticism, sending them away. He rebuked them saying, “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.”

Becoming as a child--Just exactly what does that mean? Children live in the moment. They know no political correctness, love openly, and gauge carefully and instinctively those they allow into their world. In succinct terms it means trusting with one's heart and not one's head. 

Consider the following perspective of a child--“I don’t understand why all people don’t just follow God. It’s just so easy." This is one who has taken to challenging others of the need to "just stay in your own box," her way of expressing that each of us should take care of our own lives and not be concerned about the lives of others, an admonition of great wisdom. At the ripe old age of 8, she is a living example of the very thing I am speaking of.  

While children have no comprehension or understanding of the meaning of the word trust, they are just that--trusting, their faith direct and simplistic. Although some may view this as naïve', lacking an intellectual approach, it is the ultimate representation of a child placing his/her trust in the care of a loving parent.  

The mind is the battlefield, where war is waged, and children are yet to be encumbered by the mental process of thought, doubt, contradiction. They simply believe. How difficult is that? Difficult for some, easy for others, but an important choice to be made with long-term ramifications. 

Consider the need to become as a child.

"...it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs." Matthew 19:14