January 8 – “Remembering?”

“Way back last year when everybody was here just after Christmas.”  Huh.  That’s really how I’m going to start this?  “Way back last year.”  Last year was just over a week ago, wasn’t it?  Sure seems longer than that.  I’m always amazed at how time has a way of radically distorting itself, in my mind at least.  Kind of gives me perspective on the characteristic of aging where the person can remember events from years ago but has trouble recalling what happened yesterday or the day before.  It’s that time distortion effect taken to the max.  I’m going to bookmark this page of the journal so I can refer back to it in years to come - well, OK, in weeks to come – when I can’t think of who it is I’m talking to or what it was that I came into a room for.  Of course, when that occurs, I won’t be able to remember that I marked the page.  Ah, aging.  Maybe it would be better if I just planned to enjoy whatever comes as part of who I am at the time.  That way I could deflect focus from myself and stay connected to the people around me.  Even if it means meeting the same people over and over again.  Hey, I can go for new friends and new discoveries every day.  I’ll put that in my “Confusion and Consternation to the Children and Grandchildren” notebook of things to do when it doesn’t really matter what I do. 

Now, back to the anecdote I was going to share when I was rudely interrupted by the distractions of my thoughts.  Wait.  I can’t remember what I was going to talk about.  Something that happened last year, wasn’t it?  Or was it last week?  I’ll have to get back to you on that.  Oh, and by the way … What was your name?

Ecclesiastes 12:1-5 says, “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them’— before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain; when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop, when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the windows grow dim; when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint; when men are afraid of heights and of dangers in the streets; when the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper drags himself along and desire no longer is stirred.  Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets.”

Wow, Father, that’s sure a round about way of saying we should get to know you before we get old.  Thanks for the way you drew me toward you all through the time I was a kid.  It sure made it easier when I finally realized you were talking to me.  Amen.