Pause, and step out of the stream

Getting older sucks sometimes.  There's the increasing number of aches and pains that pop up out of nowhere.  Your feet hurt when you get out of bed every morning.  The gray hairs (if you have any hairs) are multiplying like rabbits in the Australian outback.

You look at young moms and dads carrying their babies and toddlers and think, "Gosh, those parents look like they should still be in high school...!"  People you knew in high school start making the news, all distinguished and old-looking.

I know, I know, I've still got a ways to go before I reach official "old" status (notice I started with "getting older," not "getting old").  Maybe it's that midlife crisis that has me thinking about getting older, and wondering what's ahead for me.

My eyes have been opened these past weeks as I muse about ageing.  I'd been too busy, involved in my own life and schedule, and have hardly noticed the number of "old" people who walk through my life.

I saw the gentleman walking slowly through my neighborhood, wearing his jacket and tweedy beret, taking a leisurely shuffle in the brisk fall air.  The prim, proper little old lady sitting at the WalMart bench, waiting for someone, I suppose.  The even older little lady with the sad, hopeless eyes, being led through the parking lot by her daughter? grandaughter?

These people seem to be standing quietly on the banks of a restless stream, watching humanity flow by loudly, ceaselessly.  One day, I will be one of them, if I am lucky (?) enough to live that long.

When I'm done raising my kids, and the grandkids have all grown up, how will I spend my time?  What will be my purpose then?  As body fails, eyesight and hearing dim, and joints crackle, what will I be doing to keep myself going?  I honestly don't know at this point.

I have been quite depressing about this whole ageing thing, sorry.  There is a brighter side, and that has to do with looking forward to what comes after.  Let me explain.

A long time ago, I once had someone ask me where I thought I'd go after I died.  I said, "Well, I don't know if I believe the whole heaven and hell concept.  I think maybe we just 'snuff out' when we die; just stop existing."  This was a little comforting to me, because hell seemed like a really bad idea.

Then they asked me, IF there was a heaven and a hell, where would I hope to go?  I said, "Well, I hope I'd go to heaven.  I've been a good person, you know, never murdered anyone.  Yet."

They asked me to give them a percent, based on what chance I thought I had of getting into heaven.  I said flippantly, "Oh, probably 60%. My good deeds should outweigh my bad, pretty heavily, if I might add."

The next question was a toughie... what would I say to God to let me in to heaven?  Jiminy!  I think I mumbled something about "God, ummm, I think I've been a good person.  Let me in, please?"  Ok, epic fail on that one, and a bit pathetic.

THEN the question that had me stumped, and ultimately saved my soul.  This person dared to say that if I were right and he was wrong, then everything would be fine, right?  My soul would cease to exist and there would be no consequence for my deeds, good or bad.  I would be fine -- nonexistent, but fine.

But if HE was right, and there was a heaven and a hell, would my pathetic plea to God be able to save me?  Where would I be for eternity?  I had no answer for that one, because I was clueless.

As I look ahead and see the years of my life flow by, I know that, ultimately, we all end up going through death and coming out one way or another.  This makes me pause... and step out of the stream for a moment to consider my life.  How will I use the rest of the time I've been given before heading into that great beyond?

And for you, do you know where you're headed?