Time Marches On

It waits for no man.

If you ever check any of the blogs I link on my blog, you may have found two posts recently related to age. One was by a young lady celebrating her 29th birthday for the second time. The second was less celebratory and related the woes of the wear and tear on an aging body.

These two posts kicked off a week of mile markers that reminded me how far down life's road I'd journeyed and reminded me that no matter how much I run and lift and fight to slow the progression of aging and its affects, that's all I can do, hopefully slow, but never stop the hands of time.

The ongoing situation with my mother-in-law's health, the worry for aging parents, the eye exam at which the doctor advised me that I was still a couple years away from some permanent vision changes, and finally, the call from my doctor advising me that I needed to go have a test run. A test that I thought was reserved for men a bit older than I. Of course his comment was, "I don't think there is anything to worry about, but you're not a 21 year old, you're 38 now."

Cap the week off with a coworkers son being shot, the death of a fellow church member, a discussion with one of my managers in which I learned he had lost his son some years back at the age of 16, and finally the crash of a jet airliner because of a flock of geese. Great news when your job has you flying almost everyweek.

A week filled with many reminders that time on this earth is fleeting, that tomorrow is not guaranteed, but that eternity can be. Even knowing that my salvation was bought and paid for by the blood of Christ, I still wouldn't mind sticking around a few more years in this rental body. Perhaps during that time I will help others find that same saving grace, raise my boys, love my wife, and have some fun along the way. With that in mind, I'll continue to hit the gym, try to watch what I eat, and will those airplanes to stay airborne when I'm parked in their seats. My body might be a rental unit, but nothing says I have to "beat it like a rented mule", rather, I need to be the best steward I can possibly be. Who knows, maybe when this week is well behind me, and the indignation of my tests are complete, I'll be able to laugh and say...."40 is the new 30"...well maybe...just maybe.