I seem to be having quite a few humiliating experiences these days. I have reached the age where remembering to zip my pants is a challenge. But this past week, I was humiliated and it wasn’t even my fault. The barber was putting the finishing touches on my new coif and he mumbles “yea, hang on a sec, let me get those ear hairs for you.”
I have ear hair. I won’t drag this out like some lame open mike comedian; suffice to say I am damaged goods. This means my life is almost over. I already consider staying up until 9:30 pm an accomplishment and 4:30 a perfectly reasonable time for supper. I have only a few life stages left: I will soon believe that my bowel activity is of interest to everyone, followed by slow walking, driving by Braille and finally “APRIL, what did you do with my teeth!”
I have often said that there are only a couple of verses of scriptures that I can prove and one is “life is a vapor, it appears only for a moment.” It makes sad to think that I am getting old. I wish it made me glad, to think that I will soon live in eternity, and not even have to worry about zippers. But I can not shake the feeling that I missed too much, messed up too much. The feeling that life is too fast is a constant shadow. The brakes have gone out, the hill is steep and I sense myself uncontrollably accelerating towards eternity.
The Bible is filled with folks like me. I think an entire book, called Ecclesiastes, was written by a guy whose barber clipped his ear hair. And it made him think. Only a couple of options are available to me: freeze in fear, or make each moment count. I bet God is wanting the latter, to help me overcome fear and immobility. Besides, aren’t the best rides at the park always the fastest?
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3 comments:
hey karl, you are just at the top of the roller coaster. it can be frightening. i can vividly remember (ok, maybe fuzzily is closer to the truth) when i was there. i was scared to death. at the top of the hill and looking down at the great unknown. also, looking behind me. filled with sadness. at the opportunities that had been missed (squandered). at the mess i had made in my life and the lives of others. a fear of faceing this last hill of my life, alone, but with no skills to do it with anyone else, either. i was screwed. afraid to go forward, but running from the past. sorta frozen in time. i reached out to grab hold of something, someone, anything that could stop the fall, but, alas, know one could. then the miracle happened. COMMUNITY came to my rescue. not to stop the ride, but to jump into the car with me. to hold me. comfort me. encourage me when i was so afraid. unconditionally love me. to let me know i didn't have to finish this ride by myself. so here i am. flying down the other side. gravity pulling me down to the final stop. but now there is a peace, somehow. at times even contentment. not near enough, but more each day. ya know, i think i will be all right. and i have a gut feeling that when i get to the end, i will be able and look back and say;"this has been a great ride and i would be willing to do it again. but only with my friend, COMMUNITY". isn't the goal of our life, not to get to the finish line with our bodies and minds all intact, but to go sliding into heaven bloodied, bruised, missing body parts and completely spent, yelling at st. peter: "WOW, THAT WAS AN AMAZEING RIDE". hang on my friend. the best is yet to come.
I, too, want to enjoy the ride and to enjoy those I'm riding with, becoming more present to each. I have been practicing trying to notice and enjoy the moment, another way of making each moment count. I shared this with a friend as we were going through piles of junk and clearing out her house before it goes on the market. She asked,
"Are you enjoying this moment??" We looked at each other and started to laugh. I realized I was theoretically "enjoying the moment", but not actually enjoying it. The rest of the day as we huffed and puffed up and down stairs with boxes, bagged trash, and vacuumed, we kept asking each other that question. It was a good reminder. (And the moments were more enjoyable, even the gripey ones, because we were in it together.)
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