I've been wanting to write for several days, and I have given myself the goal of writing at least one blog post a month in 2025, so tonight I sat down with my laptop and opened my blog dashboard.
But then, instead of writing, I read. I read post after post, so many things and moments and feelings I had forgotten. I cried. I cried as I reread about Grandmother's ICU stay and posts about my kids who are now moved out and gone on to make their own lives. I reflected. I reflected on lessons that the Lord has shown me through Scripture and through his lessons and through experiences. I read a post in which I talked about the 11 years of my profession I have left in front of me and that post feels like I wrote it yesterday. However, that post was 5 years ago and I have 6 years left now.
Time is just such an unwieldy character.
I find it simultaneously shocking and not the slightest bit surprising that the amount of years to my retirement is so small. Francisco graduated from CHS 6 years ago. That event feels like a minute and a lifetime ago. I know that 2031 will feel the same way.
If things continue as they are (and we all know that is never a guarantee), the time I have left can be broken down in this way:
6 more yearbooks
6 more rounds of Holocaust Lit
6 AP classes
1 RISE group and a portion of another
6 graduations
That is mind-boggling to me. 6 is so close to single hand digits.
I want to find ways to make the next 6 years my best yet. I don't want to grow old and bitter and hopeless and cynical. I want to end this thing on a peak, with a bang instead of a whimper. I want my final 6 years to be the ones I remember with such joy and contentment. I'm not sure what to do in order to make that happen, but that's what I'm searching for.
