The year of our Lord 2021 marks the fortieth anniversary of my high school graduation and my entry into the working world. On that first day of work, I couldn’t imagine forty years into my future. Today, I look back in wonder at how quickly those years have passed, and how much has changed.
I lamented not having access to personal computers in high school until I learned the first “PCs” only became commercially available the year I graduated. We knew nothing of the internet or cell phone. We mailed letters and conducted financial transactions in the bank lobby. If anyone mentioned “cloud,” we looked up at the sky.
I suddenly sound a lot older than I feel, as I’m sure my parents did when they described the innovations that came about in their lifetime. Given today’s life expectancies, I expect to have plenty of fodder to keep me writing for a very long time.
Now that I’m at an age where I’m more likely to be asked if I’m still working than what I do for a living, my mind often turns to graduation of a different sort. I feel a growing sense of urgency to do those things that I’ve “always” wanted to do. I realized, watching a recent documentary about Ernest Hemingway, that I’m about the age he was when his writing began to decline.
A new year, or in my case, a new season of life, has the potential of a blank slate. Like a painting I received for Christmas, the canvass awaits shape and color. The artist, a dear friend, chose the colors (she knows I love red), but the picture took shape as she poured those colors from a cup.
The days of our lives form the shape of our lives. Some things that happen during those days are not of our choosing. Like Mama Gump’s box of chocolates, we don’t know what we’re going to get. As a child, I always hoped for a chocolate-covered cherry or a piece of fudge. Some of those first bites were pretty disappointing, but they never stopped me from trying another piece.
One need not be young or follow a specific pattern to find success. For instance, writer Shelby Foote was not well known to the public until his seventies, when he appeared in Ken Burns’ The Civil War (USA, 1990). Grandma Moses was also a septuagenarian when she began painting the works that made her famous. Norman Rockwell got an earlier start in life and kept painting until he achieved his goal of becoming a household name. Harlan Sanders re-engineered a pressure cooker to market his fried chicken. Henry Ford built his first engine, known by the nickname “kitchen sink,” at home.
Nor does one need to be famous to make an impact. Our pastor’s father moved to Missouri at the age of seventy-five to be near family in his older age. Over the next thirteen years, he pastored three churches! Our Sunday School teacher, recently recognized as volunteer of the month at a local community center, celebrated her eightieth birthday ziplining in Costa Rica – nearly eight years ago.
As long as we are alive, we must live. The Psalmist wrote, “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24, KJV). Living is learning, growing, enjoying every day, no matter what that day looks like.
What are you waiting for?
Copyright 2021 lifeatroomtemperature.com Sherry A Hathaway. All rights reserved.