I’m quite certain the Israelites didn’t think God would deliver them by killing Egyptian babies or that those Egyptian parents would load them up with plunder on their way out of town I doubt Paul ever thought he’d follow Jesus, much less become a zealous evangelist and missionary for Him. And Judas- I’m sure he never thought someone would be so foolish as to waste a pound of costly perfume on Jesus’ feet (though he did think about what he lost in the process.) Many of the Passover attendees didn’t think Jesus would show up at the celebration. Surprise!
When I was young, I thought I knew how my life would play out: go to college, start a career, get married, buy a house, have kids and grandkids, spend my golden years with my husband…and all of that has happened. What I didn’t think about was marrying a man who planned to work in Africa, moving to Kenya and raising a family there, living in India, adjusting to the new normal of a pandemic, or any of the other situations that transpired well beyond my control. Looking back, the surprises, though often difficult and unwanted, have made my life fuller and I am grateful. As I’ve gotten older, wiser, and more experienced, I’ve realized how very little I really know or can control about the future (although I keep trying).
So “think” is the operative word here; it is all too easy to plan what will happen next week, next month, next year, but my favorite quote is “We plan, God laughs”. I hope to continue to spend time interacting and appreciating my adult kids and loving on my grandkiddos. I think my husband and I will continue to babysit one day a week. I think we will continue to have a family vacation in Frankfort every summer. I think I’d like to find a part-time job or a volunteer opportunity (though, I’m not straining toward it)…but I really do love not having a daily schedule or a “to-do” list…hmm. I think we will return to India for the dedication of the hospital my husband helped build. I think we will continue to take road trips. I think I will serve as a pastoral elder at my church for the next 3 years. These things I strain toward, anticipating feelings of satisfaction, making a difference, and accomplishment.
However, as I am now well into my senior years, it is no longer possible to ignore a weakening body or the fact that there are things I can no longer do. How long before I won’t be able to lift my youngest grandchildren? I can still go walking, but I bought my first pair of Yaktrax this winter. Purchasing kayaks last year, we never thought about how to get them up on the roof of the car. We managed, but this year, we bought a kayak loading assist. When we recently bought a second car, we made sure we could get in and out of it. Looking at possible exercise classes, I find myself thinking, “Can I still do that?”. Not to be a Debbie Downer, but thoughts of cancer, Alzheimer's, broken hips, falling down, arthritis, insomnia, Parkinson's, stroke creep, unwelcome, into my consciousness. I strain away.
I can no longer deny my mortality; I look in the mirror surprised to see an old woman. Looking back on my life, I wonder how all those years could have passed by so quickly. I don’t look forward to death because I feel I still have so much to live for here; nor do I like to think about the unknown process of dying (please, God, take me while I sleep) I strain away. But neither do I fear death itself, the casting off of this outwardly wasting body. I know (not think) that when I take my last breath on earth, Jesus will be there to carry me to Heaven. And I’m choosing to believe by faith that eternal life there will be even better than what I leave behind.
— cmshingle
When I was young, I thought I knew how my life would play out: go to college, start a career, get married, buy a house, have kids and grandkids, spend my golden years with my husband…and all of that has happened. What I didn’t think about was marrying a man who planned to work in Africa, moving to Kenya and raising a family there, living in India, adjusting to the new normal of a pandemic, or any of the other situations that transpired well beyond my control. Looking back, the surprises, though often difficult and unwanted, have made my life fuller and I am grateful. As I’ve gotten older, wiser, and more experienced, I’ve realized how very little I really know or can control about the future (although I keep trying).
So “think” is the operative word here; it is all too easy to plan what will happen next week, next month, next year, but my favorite quote is “We plan, God laughs”. I hope to continue to spend time interacting and appreciating my adult kids and loving on my grandkiddos. I think my husband and I will continue to babysit one day a week. I think we will continue to have a family vacation in Frankfort every summer. I think I’d like to find a part-time job or a volunteer opportunity (though, I’m not straining toward it)…but I really do love not having a daily schedule or a “to-do” list…hmm. I think we will return to India for the dedication of the hospital my husband helped build. I think we will continue to take road trips. I think I will serve as a pastoral elder at my church for the next 3 years. These things I strain toward, anticipating feelings of satisfaction, making a difference, and accomplishment.
However, as I am now well into my senior years, it is no longer possible to ignore a weakening body or the fact that there are things I can no longer do. How long before I won’t be able to lift my youngest grandchildren? I can still go walking, but I bought my first pair of Yaktrax this winter. Purchasing kayaks last year, we never thought about how to get them up on the roof of the car. We managed, but this year, we bought a kayak loading assist. When we recently bought a second car, we made sure we could get in and out of it. Looking at possible exercise classes, I find myself thinking, “Can I still do that?”. Not to be a Debbie Downer, but thoughts of cancer, Alzheimer's, broken hips, falling down, arthritis, insomnia, Parkinson's, stroke creep, unwelcome, into my consciousness. I strain away.
I can no longer deny my mortality; I look in the mirror surprised to see an old woman. Looking back on my life, I wonder how all those years could have passed by so quickly. I don’t look forward to death because I feel I still have so much to live for here; nor do I like to think about the unknown process of dying (please, God, take me while I sleep) I strain away. But neither do I fear death itself, the casting off of this outwardly wasting body. I know (not think) that when I take my last breath on earth, Jesus will be there to carry me to Heaven. And I’m choosing to believe by faith that eternal life there will be even better than what I leave behind.
— cmshingle
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