You know that you are getting old whenever you begin referring to the events of your life in terms of decades. Having celebrated another birthday yesterday, I am reminded that I have reached the final chapters in the novel of my life. We are all the heroes or heroines of our personal stories. When I think back to the earlier chapters of my own life, it hardly seems that I am the same person; and yet my core values have remained the same. My love of animals and birds began at the moment I could form words and sentences. My love of trees came about when I was in art class in the 5th grade and we were taken outside to draw. There were bluebells growing alongside my parent’s home, establishing a lifelong love for all bell shaped flowers. Another thing that has remained constant in my life, is the sense of morality that has always guided my actions.
Looking back over my life, it is kind of like reading a mystery novel. The book is thick and I can see that I have only a few chapters to go. I cannot skip ahead to see if it has a happy ending. If I attempt to skim over entire sentences or paragraphs, I risk missing an important clue. Throughout the story, I have come to know my protagonist well. The many joyous moments, as well as the heartaches she has experienced, resonate deep within me. I am hoping for a happy ending to this story, one that ends with grace and dignity; but I know that many mysteries have surprise endings. I will keep reading this novel, paragraph by paragraph (or day by day). Have I reached the climax of the story?
Often, when I am reading a book of fiction, I find myself reading faster and faster, often into the night, so desperate am I to know the ending. My life of course, is not a work of fiction; and I have no control over the speed to which it unfolds. Just as in reading a compelling story, I must set the book aside from time to time and attend to the living of my life. I do hope it has a happy ending; but my greatest hope is that it will become an inspiration to others.
