One would think that funerals, memorials and homegoing services would cause me to think about my own mortality, but really they don’t. This is because I think about mortality almost every day. What sort of legacy, if any, will I leave on this Earth and, even if I do manage to leave one, will it really matter when the sun starts to die and engulfs the earth and everything on it or when the “new heaven” and “new Earth” prophesied by John emerges?
I’m not sure if it’s because I now hold the advantage, such that it is, of youth on my side, but I find it very difficult to see myself reaching old age. What’s further concerning is that I feel far, far older than I am. In about six weeks, I’ll be turning 27 years old, but feel very close to fifty which is why I often feel as if my life is beginning to slowly wind to nothing. I’m even starting to feel too old to do things that, technically, I’m of the proper age to be doing.
Marriage? Why, I’m far too old to be of use to anyone and far too set in my ways to start trying to compromise and start thinking about forever. Children? I’ve passed that age where children would be a fit for me and the older I get, the more apparent it becomes that I’ll just have to settle with being an Aunt Dee or a godmother. Career? The career I’ve got will most likely be it, as I’m far too old to start another one at this point in my life.
Rationally, I know none of this is true, but this is how I see myself, so when I consider aging and mortality, it’s difficult to consider myself growing old because, in many ways, I sense I’m already there.
Brother Mike’s memorial service was this evening and it got me thinking about how many souls we’ve sent on home since I joined the church five years ago. Far too many in far too little time.
I wrote 1065 words tonight (from it until long after the sun had set) and though I often feel as if I won’t make it to the other side of the mountain, I keep setting goals and trekking towards it. I’m pushing hard to make myself at least meet 500 words daily, if not the full thousand to push out this novel as if I were giving birth to it since, as I welcome twenty-seven years walking the earth, I’d like to do so with a full draft of my novel in my hand.