Riding the waves at 67

I was struck by the Pastor's anecdote last Sunday about one of the things a batch of 6 to 13 year olds had to do at last month's church summer camp -- to write their epitaph. What do you want people to remember about you? What do you want to share with people after you're gone?

I found myself reflecting on what I heard, and asked myself what I would have written. I was actually absorbed by it even if I wouldn't need it, having said quite often that I prefer immediate disposal, no viewing, no vigils, just maybe a get-together of family and friends with lots of food and music, then off to the wind or the sea or wherever my dust go. Nevertheless I came out with one after a couple of days.

I mean every word.


I actually had Jenny in mind. If there is anyone I would want to hear or read it, it's her, first and foremost. It is something I want her to remember after I am gone. If she does and heeds it, then I would have left her the best that I ever could, and I guess, succeeded in fulfilling my purpose.

I am going through what is so far the most turbulent period of my life. The waves are big and strong. They are relentless and unceasing. I am weak, spent and against the wall. But thank God that He made the rhythm of life such that before each wave comes a fleeting moment when one can gasp for a bit of air and lift up one's arms to grasp a bit of heaven's power. This way, one is always equal or even stronger than the next wave until the next momentary respite comes again.

And my days have been such for the last couple of months. I sometimes think back and realize I never thought this would happen to me. Not to me. Not at my age. I let my guard down. I lived for the moment when one must learn to do so but with enough consideration of tomorrow. I failed to use God's gift of wisdom. I opted for life's distractions.

What's been eating me is that I set a bad example for Jenny. I also did not equip her for the storm. Now I sense her pain in being in the storm with me. And under our circumstance, my only option is to pray.

I repent, I sought and received forgiveness. Now I am learning to stay firm in the abiding presence of God, unbelievably joyful even as the waves beat me up, and strangely at peace that He knows my every need, that His plan for me  is truly the best ever, that He knows each strand of hair on my head, that He stays with me through the storm, that He preceded me and has resolved all my problems. He often has to remind me of the countless big and small 'impossibilities' I encountered, all of which He sorted out in a way that not only saved me but even prospered me in more ways than one. These thoughts never fail to quiet me down.

Then I find myself praying that by His grace, I will not focus on the waves but on Him, the Lord of the storm, and that Jenny will learn the same. I feel His arms around me, nodding His head ever so gently and smiling quietly as He does.

The waves come again and again and again. But it no longer matters that they do.

Yup, at 67, I am learning to surf.