as we've worked through the chores of moving--packing, loading, unloading, unpacking, lifting, tugging, reaching--i've been reminded of the process of my own aging. i hurt, from the bottoms of my feet to my facial muscles i hurt. the aches and pains that used to be relieved by a couple of good nights' sleep don't go away so easily. those aches and pains remind me that the end of my life is not so many years away, that most of my life is in the past.
i think of the frailty of life and how life can be snatched from us when we least expect it. a young woman we knew in our former town was found dead recently in the home of a friend for whom she was house-sitting. she was expecting a baby, and both she and the child she was carrying died instantly when she fainted and hit her head, snapping her neck. she had been filled with excitement about life, as she looked forward to the birth of her child and had just moved into a new, larger apartment so she would have room for a nursery. now she's gone, and the life she had imagined with her baby was taken from her in a flash.
here i sit at age seventy, having lived a full, rich life. i've seen so many things as i've traveled all over the world. i have two wonderful children. i've spent almost 49 years with a wife that i adore. i've had a rewarding career. though there's much i want to do before my life ends, if it ended right now, i would die happy and fulfilled. every day we wake up is a gift that needs to be appreciated.
may we relish each moment we have breath. may our lives be filled with gratitude for the amazing gift of lives filled with rich experiences. may we pay attention to the small joys that are ours throughout each day. may we live each day as if it were our last. shalom.