I'm a bit wisful this evening - the proximate causes including my wife's temporary absence while she visits her parents and my semi-exhaustion from the project I'm working on. Fatigue, Vince Lombardi famously said, makes cowards of us all. But I also feel more heavily than usual the absence of my dad. It has been more than a year, and the pain is not generally so acute as it once was. But I notice that many of my former enthusiasms have been tempered by a sense of the evanescence of all things temporal. I understand more personally the expressions I noticed as a kid on the faces of older people as they consider today's pleasures in relation to times and people gone by.
The feeling of futility tells me I need to draw nearer to God. The wistfulness is partly an incorrect view of things (i.e., I'm not seeing things in light of what God tells us of what's ahead in eternity) but is also a reminder that this world is not my home. Sigh. How often I am reminded, and yet the lesson hurts still.
1 comment:
I want to sigh just from reading this. Feeling for you bro.'
How vast a difference in our general outlook it is when we view death as the end, compared to death as the first page of the first chapter of a never-ending story.
I think that there really were more tales of bravery and valor in the past because men were more certain that the latter (above) was true.
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