I’ve been pondering that line in the psalms. The one that says,

            “I used to be young, but now I’m old …”

             The rest of that verse talks of the ‘righteous never being forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.’

But that phrase, ‘I used to be young, but now I’m old …”?

That’s a haunting thought to me:

      “Young, but now, old?”

I feel old, Lord. Every time I stand up,

                My painful back tells me I’m old.

                      I look into that morning mirror.

                              I notice my wrinkled brow, and I know, again every day.

I’m not getting old.

I’m there.

Life’s beginning, and middle, and end were all known and “scripted” by your good hand, O God.

And my measly bit part in that script is surely approaching a final ‘curtain call.’

              Not today, perhaps.

                    Maybe not even this year or next.

But in the grand scheme you have known all along,

It won’t be too many days or weeks or months or years,

Before my ‘time’ will have come.

                  I’m one of the old ones, now.

                  And I know the end surely is in sight.

As I approach my ‘finish line,’

I do not long for accolades or notice of adoring fans.

               Only the smile of the Audience of One.

May I be content with my station and place in this journey, now, Lord;

                         May I quietly take my seat at life’s table, as one of the “old ones,”

                                Busying myself daily with your good work,

                                          While I wait for your sweet beckoning and call.

Agatha Christie wrote that she lived ‘… on borrowed time, waiting in the anteroom for the summons that will inevitably come.”

I guess all of us live on that borrowed time, don’t we?

We all live in that crowded anteroom, waiting for the inevitable (and unavoidable) summons.

Life played well is no game, for certain.

           More like drama on an eternal stage.

I can only hope my place on that stage has been well-played.

                    My lines well-rehearsed,

                    My scars earned through years of struggle and contending with life’s theatre.

Yes, Lord. I guess I’m one of the old ones, now.

Help me finish my part by acting my age.

Because I have travelled miles, and heard the music of life’s storied song,

                    I should be at a place in my journey where people notice.

                    Time’s march and effect on my body is easy to see, now.

                     May the same be said about my character and my thinking.

We old ones need to act our age.

                  We need to deport ourselves as if we’ve learned a few things.

                  Time has surely seasoned our many seasons, and our long path toward Your finish line.

To be older and hopefully, wiser, is an honorable thing, I think.

And I’m convinced … I’m one of the old ones, now.

May I be the kind of old man who acts his age, today.

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