I can’t possibly be half a century old.

But alas, the AARP card I received in the mail confirms it.  I am indeed quickly closing in on the big 5-oh.

We all experience those milestone birthdays. You know what I mean.  You look forward to turning 16, then 18, then the big 21.  After that, 30 comes much too quickly, 40 even quicker and then, oh well, here I am.  Fifty years old. Almost. It becomes official in early December. (not that I’m marking down the days)

I should have seen it coming.  I recall a couple years ago, I was having a conversation with one of my 20-something co-workers.  I was telling her about the plastic box I keep my medications in. You know, the ones that are neatly divided into the days of the week.  She told me, “Oh yeah, my grandpa has one of those”.  Talk about a reality check and ego slap.

Hey, it happens.  One day you’re celebrating youth and vitality, the next thing you know you’re actually reading the obituaries, comparing doctor’s visits with others in your age group and worrying about age spots, gray hair and body aches.

If you’re my age, you can relate. If I’m old enough to be your dad or even grandpa, you’ll get here soon enough.

So, am I sinking into deep depression and dwelling on this “over the hill” thing? Hardly. I’ve always felt younger than my chronological age would confirm. Ask my wife, she’ll tell you I flat out act like a child too many times.  But, no apologies.  There’s something to that adage “you’re as young as you feel”.

What lessons have I learned in these 50 years?  Enough to fill a few books.  Regrets? You better believe it. Like the too wild and too crazy living of my college days. I’m convinced I managed to survive only by the fervent prayers of my mother. Have you been there?  Hindsight, it turns out, really is 20/20. Youth has a strange way of filtering out caution and tossing it to the breeze.

I wish I’d paid more attention to my dad when I was his “tool box handler”.  He’s working on fixing the car, or building whatever, and it was my job to hand him a crescent wrench or the needle nose pliers or the phillips screwdriver.  Of course, I was old enough to think I knew everything. Hindsight says I didn’t have a clue.  Funny how it takes the passage of time to truly appreciate so many moments in life.

I recall lamenting over changing diapers and helping care for my baby daughter, who’s now a 20 year old woman.  I’d give anything to have some of those moments back. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I didn’t relish those moments then.  The thing is, I didn’t appreciate them enough.

It’s totally cliche, but here it is. Enjoy the moment.  That giggling little girl that gives you so much pleasure with just her presence will soon be marching off to college. Those sunsets you never paused to enjoy won’t happen again.  That family feud you had with whoever isn’t all that important. You’ll look back at your stubbornness, only to realize you robbed yourself.

Country music has a way of reminding me of things important in life.  Tim McGraw’s song from a few years ago comes to mind: “Live Like You Were Dying”.  If you knew your date of death in advance, and it was closing in quickly, how would you change your life?  The guy in the song didn’t sit around and mope. He got about the business of truly living and enjoying life.  He rides a bull, climbs a mountain, watches an eagle take flight and reads the “good book”.

Life truly is short. God says one moment to Him is like a thousand years.  Eternity is what truly matters most.

Consider what Jesus managed to accomplish in his short time on this planet.  A man and message changed the world. The instructions for our daily living are right there in the “red letters”.  But you argue, I’ll never be like Jesus. True. Not in this lifetime. But it’s the perfect example to model or work toward.  God uses our imperfect selves, whether you’re 15 or 50.

Okay, the truth hurts.  I don’t pray enough. I don’t read God’s word enough. I’m not kind enough. I’m not the best example.  You know what? It’s okay. I’ve been blessed with yet another day to be a better man, a better husband and father, a better faithful witness, a better friend and neighbor.

Shall I throw in the towel and give up and host a pity party?  Not hardly. As the T-shirts and bumper stickers say: “God’s not finished with me yet”.

With age comes wisdom.  Wisdom to see where I’ve failed and wisdom to chart a course for a more faithful future.

I just hope no one gives me any of those black balloons on my 50th birthday.

Are you with me?

-STEVE
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