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I Am Here


cffblog6.jpgNovember 20, 2017 Monday)

Now that I am old, I think I have begun to realize why older people sometimes like to talk about things that happened during their lifetimes. If I'm right, it's because we realize that we are mortal, after all, and one of these days we will be gone. I think we talk about the past because we are talking about the life we have had, and for some reason we don't want to be forgotten. It's our way of saying to the world, "I was here."

I have a friend who who keeps a daily journal. I will not name him because I'm not sure he wants his personal habits to be advertised, but I think what he is doing is remarkable. I wish I had thought of doing that, because I have begun to realize that I don't always remember things exactly as they happened. The memory, however, sticks and takes the place of the reality. I read an article about this not long ago that was discussing how courtroom witnesses don't always remember what actually happened. They remember, instead, their own personal version and are convinced their memories are accurate. But if the events remembered happened years ago, they may not be. So when a person has a trial many years after the events, the testimony of witnesses is suspect.

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So, I wish I had written it all down. One result of these blogs may be that some of them are journals in a way, and I have recounted events as I remember them. I just wish I had written things down at the time so that I could be sure that's the way the happenings really happened.

At any rate, going back to the first paragraph, I was here. I came along in 1931 and stayed for quite a while. Let me put it another way: "I am here." I'm beginning to understand how great a privilege that is, and how it's really only a temporary arrangement. I take to heart Jesus' words, "Because I live, you shall live also," and as I look backwards, I try to remember to look forward, too. So, let us rejoice that we live. This is our time. Rejoice.

Now that I am old, I think I have begun to realize why older people sometimes like to talk about things that happened during their lifetimes. If I'm right, it's because we realize that we are mortal, after all, and one of these days we will be gone. I think we talk about the past because we are talking about the life we have had, and for some reason we don't want to be forgotten. It's our way of saying to the world, "I was here."

I have a friend who who keeps a daily journal. I will not name him because I'm not sure he wants his personal habits to be advertised, but I think what he is doing is remarkable. I wish I had thought of doing that, because I have begun to realize that I don't always remember things exactly as they happened. The memory, however, sticks and takes the place of the reality. I read an article about this not long ago that was discussing how courtroom witnesses don't always remember what actually happened. They remember, instead, their own personal version and are convinced their memories are accurate. But if the events remembered happened years ago, they may not be. So when a person has a trial many years after the events, the testimony of witnesses is suspect.

So, I wish I had written it all down. One result of these blogs may be that some of them are journals in a way, and I have recounted events as I remember them. I just wish I had written things down at the time so that I could be sure that's the way the happenings really happened.

At any rate, going back to the first paragraph, I was here. I came along in 1931 and stayed for quite a while. Let me put it another way: "I am here." I'm beginning to understand how great a privilege that is, and how it's really only a temporary arrangement. I take to heart Jesus' words, "Because I live, you shall live also," and as I look backwards, I try to remember to look forward, too. So, let us rejoice that we live. This is our time. Rejoice.

iamhere.png



so are you--be thankful!




Reprinted from November 20, 2008

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