Father Time

July 15, 2019

At least I can read. And go for a walk. Or any of a thousand things that have become history for my mother. She sits, and with great effort rises to use the bathroom and shuffle back to her chair...to just sit. The television may or may not be on, but even when it is, she can’t hear much of what is happening, and the images are fuzzy and blurred. So she sleeps a lot, rising late, napping in the afternoon, and going to bed around 8:00.

And so one day melds into another, and another, an unbroken litany of inactivity. When Linda and I visit, we try to bring her up to date on what’s happening in our lives, but she is unable to reciprocate much. It’s no wonder when she wakes every morning, she is disappointed to still be here. She is confident in her faith, and eager to meet Jesus, but until then, she sits.

I hate to say it, but I’m probably looking into my future. Hopefully, it will be another twenty-five or more years, as it has been for her, but already I can feel it in my wrists and back. Father Time keeps a steady pace, and like it or not, we are walking side by side. A few days ago, Linda and I were talking about growing old. “Does it bother you?” she asked. 

“Not really,” I responded. “Most of the time, I don’t think about it, and even when I do, there’s nothing I can do about it.” I try to keep active, to work out and eat right, but I know ultimately, it’s a losing fight. Hank Williams sung his mournful tune before he tragically died at only 29: “No matter how I struggle and strive, I’ll never get out of this world alive.” I don’t feel mournful about it, but it’s a reality that stares me in the face every morning when I look in the mirror and see grey instead of brown. Facing mortality for me means doing what I can to make every moment count, to live fully the life God has given me, and to do all I can to be an encouragement, guide, and witness to those around me. I can never be the judge of how well I’ve done that, but only I can truly know how much of myself I’ve given to it. Tomorrow is another day, and no matter what it brings or even how I feel about it, I’m going to receive it as a gift and live it as a trust.