Wednesday, May 30

So Many Choices... So Little Time...

As a young buck I was employed as a youth director with the YMCA in Greensboro, North Carolina. The "Y" was a hotbed of athletic activities, especially basketball in the winter. There were organized leagues for all age groups from 8 years of age and up. One particular league
was called "The No Break League." This was for guys 30 years of age and above. All the governing rules of the game of basketball remained observed, but no fast breaks were permitted. Simply stated the rule required that if there was a "turn over" the team that gained possession of the loose ball could not run ("fast beak") to their basket at the opposite end of the court. The ball was advanced at best at a slow trot. This was to keep these "old guys" from keeling over with a heart attack. I didn't participate in that league. Being in my early twenties at the time, I ran with the more athletic bunch and we nightly played cut-throat basketball... "If you lose, you go home." I remember thinking then that when I "finally" turned 30 I'd still be able to get up and down the court and run circles around "these old guys." I turned 59 in April. The "no break" rule doesn't sound nearly as preposterous to me now.

I find it hard to imagine that I am fast approaching the age milestone of sixty. To say that number does indeed sound "so old." Yet, as so may people of varying ages have quipped, "You're only as old as you feel." I feel no older than thirty mentally, but my body reminds me that my mind is playing tricks on me...especially after a weekend of working on various projects around the old homestead. The legs just don't spring back into action as they use to and my back reminds me that I can't go as long or has hard as once I did. I recognize that in the long run I'm not going to get out of this life alive...but I'm not going down without putting up a major struggle.

If financially I could sustain the blow, I'd retire tomorrow. Much more than money, time is my most important and cherished commodity. I remain employed, like most other work-a-day stiffs, because I have monetary obligations that care little that I would rather permanently call it day. Between the many remaining home improvement projects I still wish to accomplish, my desire to read every interesting book that come into my pruview, to write extensively, to travel, to teach, etc., this "go to work every day" thing is getting to be a major drag. It all comes down to having so many choices, but so little time to accomplish at this time even a small portion of any of them.

I read and hear of many individuals who once retired soon wither away and cash in their chips. For them what they do for a living defines solely who they are; their sense of worth, importance, and contribution. How I produce income represents but a tiny portion of who I am as a person. It is a recognized means to a limited end, not an end unto itself. I pray that when the Lord calls me home that my epitaph will read not what I accomplished, but who I positively influenced. It is not my desire to leave in my wake sage words of advice, but an example of how to live one's life impacting a small part of the world for good. If it can be said, "This was a man who made a difference in my life," then I will have lived a worthy life. With that as my continuous goal, I've have from this day forward only just begun. Pass the liniment, please!

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