Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Time is fleeting
(Sitting in front of the computer at the end of another busy day. C'mon lazybones, write something!)
Just heard this morning that another friend died. It wasn't a total shock--Erman was a frail old man, close to ninety if not over. Heh. What a line. He was physically frail--he had to lift his right arm with his left in order to shake hands. But a spiritually frail person wouldn't make the effort. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally--whatever you want to call it--Erman was a force of nature. I have no doubt that his funeral on Wednesday morning will be packed. And I wouldn't be surprised if I'm not the only one thinking that I need to be a little bit more like him, to carry on the legacy. Death pulls everyone off the game board sooner or later, but some of us leave our mark behind.
Anyway, so I now have the proverbial "one more thing" to squeeze into my week. I hate myself for that momentary gripe over the inconvenience. I wished I lived in a small, close-knit community, where a person's funeral would shut down the whole town. But such is life in the big city, junior. Get over it.
Erman's passing led my mind down other paths as well. He had a close brush with death about a year ago--or was it two? Anyway, at that time his mind was settled and he was ready to go. In a way, my family is doing the same thing as well, amidst the bustle of paperwork and painting and overtime. Bit by bit we're saying goodbye to the status quo. Sometimes it flows naturally, as we savor a holiday or the last days carrying out a responsibilty, knowing that we won't be doing it this way again for a couple of years. Other times it's a bit forced, as we try to make time to touch base with this friend or that, or try to squeeze in one more concert before we leave. Either way, we're very aware of the fragility of our routines, our relationships, our lives. Which things will survive the journey that's bound to transform us? It's a scary question, but for me, at least, the road ahead is worth risking it. I guess I just trust God to preserve those things that need preserving. Not quite like the proverb "I hold the gifts of God in an open hand", but maybe I'm getting a bit closer to that state of mind. Or maybe I'll look back at these words in the years to come and wonder how I could have ever been so dense. Time will tell.
Just heard this morning that another friend died. It wasn't a total shock--Erman was a frail old man, close to ninety if not over. Heh. What a line. He was physically frail--he had to lift his right arm with his left in order to shake hands. But a spiritually frail person wouldn't make the effort. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally--whatever you want to call it--Erman was a force of nature. I have no doubt that his funeral on Wednesday morning will be packed. And I wouldn't be surprised if I'm not the only one thinking that I need to be a little bit more like him, to carry on the legacy. Death pulls everyone off the game board sooner or later, but some of us leave our mark behind.
Anyway, so I now have the proverbial "one more thing" to squeeze into my week. I hate myself for that momentary gripe over the inconvenience. I wished I lived in a small, close-knit community, where a person's funeral would shut down the whole town. But such is life in the big city, junior. Get over it.
Erman's passing led my mind down other paths as well. He had a close brush with death about a year ago--or was it two? Anyway, at that time his mind was settled and he was ready to go. In a way, my family is doing the same thing as well, amidst the bustle of paperwork and painting and overtime. Bit by bit we're saying goodbye to the status quo. Sometimes it flows naturally, as we savor a holiday or the last days carrying out a responsibilty, knowing that we won't be doing it this way again for a couple of years. Other times it's a bit forced, as we try to make time to touch base with this friend or that, or try to squeeze in one more concert before we leave. Either way, we're very aware of the fragility of our routines, our relationships, our lives. Which things will survive the journey that's bound to transform us? It's a scary question, but for me, at least, the road ahead is worth risking it. I guess I just trust God to preserve those things that need preserving. Not quite like the proverb "I hold the gifts of God in an open hand", but maybe I'm getting a bit closer to that state of mind. Or maybe I'll look back at these words in the years to come and wonder how I could have ever been so dense. Time will tell.
