A while back I had breakfast with a buddy in a coffee shop with one-foot-square tiles on the floor. We discussed our shared experience of reaching 60 this year, and my friend counted out a line of tiles along the wall. He placed his foot at the end of tile #7.
“Here’s a dose of reality. We get about this many productive, active decades, give or take. And you and I are 6/7 of the way to the end.”
I stared at his visual aid. Those first six tiles seemed pretty long; the last one appeared shockingly short. And today, I’m officially on that seventh tile.
I don’t intend to sound morbid or fatalistic. None of us knows how long we’ll live actively and productively. As my friend said, it’s seven tiles “give or take.”
It’s just a number
As you read this I’ll have passed my sixth birthday ending in zero. I don’t usually make a big deal out of birthdays. It’s just another day; mostly I just try to make sure I remember to renew my driver’s license.
I don’t recall 10, and 20 didn’t matter—back then, 18 and 21 were the magic numbers. 30 was a confused jumble around Mom’s death, 40 is lost in the fog of the injury. 50 doesn’t really register—about the time Relentless Grace became a dream, I guess.
Those zero years just passed with little special notice, but 60 seems different. Maybe it’s acknowledging those first six tiles and all that’s transpired. Perhaps it’s confronting the reality that the end is a lot closer than the beginning.
It might be disbelief that I actually lasted this long. I still recall the day, a few weeks after my injury (age 36) when the doctor told me—in his kind, caring manner—that I’d probably make it to 40 but 50 was pretty unlikely. I wonder if he’d like to go for a bike ride with me this afternoon.
Anticipation
As I reach that seventh tile, I suppose my tendency toward depression tempts me to look at the end and focus on what could have been and now may never be.
Certainly there’s some looking back, regrets about how I wasted chunks of those first six tiles. But mostly what makes this zero birthday different is an authentic sense of anticipation and purpose.
The reality of limited time inspires me. That’s a big reason for doing Rich’s Ride this year. It’s just a reality—at some point in the not-so-distant future, a project like this won’t just be crazy—it’ll be physically impossible.
It’s kind of cool, and somewhat motivating, to acknowledge that there’s no longer an endless string of “next years” stretching out before me.
I’m excited to discover what’s around the corner. Whatever it is, I feel a great deal of peace knowing that this verse is still in the Bible.
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Romans 8:28)
Whatever happens, even when I don’t understand, I trust that God will cause whatever happens to work together for good.
Now that’s reason to look forward. Time to get going—that seventh tile awaits.
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