Brighter lights

On this my 56th birthday, things have simplified themselves considerably. What use would I have for a lot of money at this stage, when the end of all things is near? Why a bigger house, when the number of indwellers shrinks? Fame? That and two bucks will get you a cup of coffee.

When one pushes his boat out from the shore at evening, and bobs out to sea, he takes in all the city lights and is intoxicated with the sight. But the farther into the night one paddles out, the dimmer and less distinct the light-studded cityscape grows, till from a distance only the brightest glows are still visible.

Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree tells of the boy who wanted everything, and the tree so eager to oblige. But in the end the boy returned, wrinkled, bent, and a more than a little disillusioned by the things he had craved.

From this distance of near three-score years, the minor lights that once intrigued me have faded from view and only these remain in my horizon: Christ and to live for him. Companions like Christ and to live with them. All the rest is like what Jeremiah 3:23 says --- a commotion and delusion.