The randomness of things that happen without seeming rhyme or reason leaves me feeling somewhat befuddled. I just got home from church about an hour ago, without ever making it to church. I got caught in a severe weather situation, and never quite made it there. I did spend a lot of time praying lengthy prayers... mostly for our safety. And, to think I was concerned about going empty handed when I realized I had forgotten my Bible at home! I didn't need it afterall. 
     Storms have always been moments of glory and beautiful light displays in my eyes. The thunder reverberating leaves me in awe of God's power. But tonight, realizing I would not make it before service was almost over, and pulling off the highway for a bite to eat while we waited the storm out, I found my self screaming as I ran for the IHOP, not from the quarter inch hail pummeling us, or the pouring rain, but from the lightening flashing all around me. I don't think I remember being outside in lightening before, and certainly not in hail. But, I have watched the lightening show front row seat and felt the thunder from the shelter of my front porch in years past. When did my comfort with this vanish?
     I used to marvel that my Mother could not recall much of past events in her life, facts and details, while I could list events from each year of my life, and which ornaments were gotten for the tree which year, and who gave them to me. At, least I could until about the age of 40, when the years all began to run together. I used to play a little game with my boys on long road trips. Matt would call out outrageously complicated mathematical calculations for me to solve mentally while I drove, and I could without fail, arrive at the correct answers in mere seconds. He was impressed, I could tell. I always found a calculator to be the "slow" way to figure. I could find the answer mentally before friends could with a calculator. Now, I can comfortably reach the calculator key on my laptop in mere seconds, and arrive at an answer, after mislocating a neuron in my brain and dropping digits all over the floor, trying to do mental arithmetic. I find the numbers trip all over themselves in my head. What happened?
     I'm no longer comfortable with driving at night, let alone in storms. These situations make me tense. And, to think, I used to marvel that many "older adults" used to complain that they couldn't see well to drive at night. What's up with that? I remember wondering how I would be able to accept the loss of the children in my home, when they would grow up. But, there came a point when I realized I no longer wanted little kids to raise. I had enough. Now, I find myself ready to let my sister go deal with her children when they start making a fuss while she is on the phone with me. I want no part of the hubbub. I'm tired :) 
     Ironically, the only thing that hasn't changed is that I miss my Bible if I forget it when I leave the house for anywhere, as if it has a purpose... a reason for lying there on the seat beside me. 
     Psalms 90:9-12  For all our days are passed away in your wrath: we spend
our years as a tale that is told. The days of our years are threescore years and
ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength
labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knows the power
of your anger? even according to your fear, so is your wrath. So teach us to
number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
     In strength is labor and sorrow. Imagine that! Notice the reason? Because it is soon gone. The very reason youth and strength are such a sorrowful thing is because they are fickle, and vanish without reason. This leaves you not only willing to lay aside everything that you valued as you age, but it causes you to come to value the laying down of the care, and the number of your days. But, notice the verse says that our anger equals the strength of our fear? Emotions are all from the same point of origin within us, afterall. We feel emotions with pretty much equal intensity. Fear and anger both escalate when reason vanishes. The best we can make of our moments is to spend them as if there is no yesterday.