Birthdays do that to you. Today another one is hitting me in the head. So, it’s time for a bit of reflection. Don’t fret. It’s just an annual thing that I soon get over.
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I have a hazy memory of a younger me who used to know it all — or at least a lot of it. This is common among teenagers throughout America. The malady exposes itself about the time you get your driver’s license.
For a few years you’re so full of yourself you can’t help but spill out on those around you. It’s a miracle, a God thing really, if you break through such self-centeredness to meet that special someone with whom you spend the rest of your life, seeking answers to questions together. I’ve been blessed.
Answers don’t come easily. When you hold your child in your hands for the first time, even those most gifted realize you really don’t have all the answers. Not even close. But you just try your best, and hope on the rest.
Then I blew out a few more candles on the birthday cake and eventually woke up to one correct answer to almost every question: There is so much more to learn. Opinions change and evolve even though the truth doesn’t. Truth speaks not just to the mind but to the heart. Truth sets you free.
Election years always puzzle me. Oh, there are always people with all the answers. But some become so outspoken regarding their absolute, infinite knowledge that they decide to run for President.
It would seem that if you are unquestionably assured of your correctness, you could whisper and be heard. You wouldn’t need to shout or SCREAM or bully the truth. I would think being Lead Bully of the Free World would turn people away, not recruit them to some cause.
On this birthday, I question how we ever stooped to the point of choosing between Trump and Hillary.
I… don’t… know.
I guess we should give thanks for the good folks with all the answers. They tell us what we need to know and how we should think, even during those times when it isn’t an election year. They seem to be everywhere. It used to be at a family dinner or at the backyard fence. It’s still that, of course, plus Facebook.
Anyway, I say all this to mention how I don’t like to think about the number of chances I’ve had to do the right things in my life so far — 62 years of chances so far. My time line is tipping toward the other side of things. A friend’s answer to the age question is this: Retirement isn’t always a soft slide on the downhill side of the mountain; sometimes it’s falling off a cliff!
So, today’s another birthday for me. We’re going to be with the grandkids. Maybe I’ll get another favorite T-shirt like that blast from the past, chiding me about being over the hill: “Hill? What hill? I didn’t see any hill…”
It’s a shame, really. Sixty-two years practicing life and I still do not have all the answers. And the longer I live, the more I know how often I fail to even ask the right questions.
I am certain of one thing, though. I’m now older than most trees in my yard. But, thank the Lord, I’m not yet older than (some) of the rocks.
Peace.