TRANSITIONS

April 29, 2021

I find myself at one of those curious places in life where I need some time alone, time to sort things out. The death of a close friend who was dependent on me for emotional support and so many other things, along with turning 70 necessitate taking some time to contemplate where I am and where I want to go in the unknown amount of time I have left on this planet. “Who am I, where am I, and what do I do with the rest of my life?”

Its not depression, where I feel trapped in a chasm with no apparent way out except to keep walking in the only direction available to me. I’ve been there. It may be a melancholy caused by the growing knowledge that I am in the last quartile of my life, wondering if what I have done is worth anything and how should I best use the limited time I have left.

My health is good, though my body is changing. I can see the slow, inexorable decline that is inevitable with aging. There is nothing seriously wrong, just the aggravating little things that take constant attention. Stiffness in all the wrong places, a little arthritic pain, a sensitive stomach, a thyroid that doesn’t work as well as it should, a liver that works too well in ways that are counterproductive and annoying. I have seen this in others I have observed until eventually it becomes a swelling wave of bother that leads to the inevitable thought that “Its too much trouble and I just don’t care to do it any more.” There is no fear, just resignation to the reality that we all have an end point. Its reassuring in a way to know that “I don’t have to put up with this BS forever.”

I would say that my present state of mind is rather like a broad valley. Everywhere I look I see opportunity, yet I know I must choose a single path. I can’t afford to wander around aimlessly like I could when I was young. If I’m going to do something meaningful with the time I have left I need to get going and focus! Yet the endless choices put me into a state of paralysis. “If I do this, I can’t do that.” There is not longer enough time to say “I’ll get around to that” due to the realization that I don’t have as much “I’ll get around to it” left.

In a way I suppose its a sense of grieving: the knowledge that I have to give up some things when I choose to do others. I like to think that this “I’ll get around to it” attitude is evidence that the eternal God who created this world placed in us to remind us that we were created to be eternal, with unlimited time to explore the many things that interest us. Of course, for now we exist in a fixed place and time and those two things themselves limit our options. More so as we get farther down the trail.

I know that the loss of my dependent friend has left me floundering. I tend to be a “helper” and without someone to depend upon me I feel a little lost. But after spending the last three years having someone dependent on me I think I’m ready for a break, some “ME” time. It feels selfish, and there are a thousand ways I can fulfill my need to be needed, but I will step back and make some well thought out conscious decisions about what to do with myself.

Caring for my friend was a ministry handed to me by God, and now that it is completed I have told him that I am ready for my next ministry when he is ready to reveal it to me. I know that in order to hear him I need to clear my life of clutter and distractions so that I can hear the clear quiet voice when he does speak to me. So, for the time being I will sit and wait in this broad valley, contemplating my options and listening to hear his voice when he finally speaks.