What One Thinks About When One Gets Old

So, I have a new job. It’s not a paid job, but I don’t care. I take it just as seriously as I would if it paid enough to buy a 1969 metallic blue Corvette Stingray.

The job requires that I meet with my boss, the pastor, once a week for two hours and then go back home, write up the notes, and use Google Suite to send him a bunch of “You have a new task!” notifications for the upcoming week.

Pretty easy job.

So yesterday we had our regular meeting. Halfway through, I suffered a momentary bout of self-consciousness and realized I was somewhere else. Mentally. I told him I wasn’t on my game. He nodded. Then I started telling him why. Which is not like me … so unprofessional.

Here’s a question: Has your consciousness and awareness of the moment suddenly shifted from the actual moment to a moment from a long time ago, anchoring you deeply in an ocean of memories that have weighed you down … for a very long time? Because you’re old and you’re trying to make sense of your life, the one that’s already been lived?

Yeah. That’s what happened. I went from a story about something that happened three years ago, to how it impacted me and why, and then more of the why … which took us further back, and eventually into a discussion about things that happened in the early 400s. Yeah, a wild ride.

“Wow. You’re really connected to all of that.”

He got it. I’d not shared the stories with anyone else before because … well, most people aren’t that interested. But he actually got it.

So, as I tend to do whenever I find a willing listener, I took it a few steps further. I told him to go to a particular website, pointed out some more things that happened a long time ago. And again, he realized what it means to me.

And then, for some reason, I showed him a photograph I took in the garden a few mornings ago. I spend every morning there sitting on the couch drinking coffee, reading, and praying. The couch sits under a canopy of tree branches. Not planned. It just grew that way. When I’m there in the morning, waiting for the cool breeze to brush my face, reassuring me that the Spirit is present, I feel like a queen sitting on a throne with palm fronds offering a cooling shade.

I took the photo, but I hadn’t looked at it until earlier yesterday morning. There was something about it.

“Here, look at this. I took this the other day while outside praying in the garden.”

He took my iPad from me and looked at the photo, then slowly sat down in his desk chair, still looking at the photo. I waited, wondering what was going through his mind.

“There’s something there …” I said.

“Yeah,” he interrupted as he stared at the image. I kept my mouth shut. A few seconds later, he said, “One word came into my head.”

“What …” I asked.

“Protection.”

“Yes ...” I said.

“But it’s more than a covering of protection…,” he said as he handed the iPad back to me.

I looked at the photo again. “It fills the space.”

“Yes,” he said.

Memories of the close calls flooded my mind. So many times something like an invisible hand stopped the danger from reaching me, even though there was no way for me to avoid it. And the other times … when it did reach me, something blunted the impact, sparing me a worse fate.

The conversation went on, and he recommended a book. It arrived today. If it is what I hope it is, this book could break a lot of things open for me. I’ll keep you posted.

Anyway, this is what I’m thinking about as I look at the nearness of my next birthday.

One more thing … ever since that meeting, I’ve felt calm and content … like a perfect peace.

It’s been a long time.