On Being 61 Years Old

I woke up this morning and realized it was my birthday. Last year it was a major production. I turned 60. It was the opening of a new decade of life. This year it means basically nothing to me.

I realize there are far fewer days ahead of me than there are behind me. Time is compressing and going by with alarming speed. If I am going to make a mark in this life, I had best get moving.

But what have I been doing all these years if not trying to make life mean something?

I have always been something of an existentialist, that is I subscribe to the notion that life is meaningless other than the meaning we bring to each day. Sometimes I wander from that belief and dwell on mistakes of the past and try to correct them. Other times I focus on "accomplishing something." But then I reflect on what I am and I am back in this day.

There is much to regret in life. There is also much to strive for. But dealing with those things comes today and not yesterday or tomorrow. Today I will do what I can to make the lives of myself and others better with the resources I have and not those I wish I had.

So, yes, it's another birthday, just another day to rejoice in, no better and no worse than any other. It is what I bring to it.

This is the day the Lord has given me, let me rejoice in it.

This rose bloomed yesterday. I took the time to stop and smell it. Perhaps I have learned something after all in these 61 years.