I had a serious birthday this past week. Collecting one's seventh zero tends to focus the mind, if a person is fortunate enough to still claim that faculty. Turning seventy years old is an occasion for deep reflection.
There are so many lessons in a long life, but perhaps the most significant is the importance of family. I've never possessed any remarkable amount of material wealth; I've never had any worldly power or fame. I can't say that I've missed having them. But even if I had been granted such grandiose things, I can't imagine they would hold a candle to the boundless blessings of children and grandchildren. Some good fortune simply can't be evaluated by any earthly metric.
By many standards, I'm what the world would call "lucky." I've got my health, I'm still working, I continue to enjoy my friends, reading, and learning. It all pales in comparison to the joy of family.
Yet my husband is dead for many years, and my children are successful adults busy in their own homes with their own children and family lives. It makes me wonder, exactly why am I still here? My new mission in life is to discover that answer.
Traditional translations of the Bible tell us that "threescore years and ten"--a fancy way of saying "seventy"--is a person's allotted time on earth. My father died at 70 (he once told me that he would). My mother soldiered on to the venerable age of 100 years. I like to say that if I can split the difference, I'll be very happy.
Regardless of how much life is left to me, the fact is that now I'm on God's time. My prayer is that I will find ways to make the best use of it.
