Scared of Sixty

I'm scared of getting older. No, it's not the fear of failing health or a deteriorating world that scares me, but rather it is Time's cruel joke of exposing the ignorance of our youth. If you had sat me down at 16 (many tried - none succeed) for a talk about "life" I would have venomously fought it with every fiber of my body. Why - because I didn't want to hear such wise answers? No - in truth it would have been because I honestly thought I knew all the answers. Today in my mid thirties I find myself looking back at my "youth" with a jaw-dropping awe of all that I didn't have figured out. That is all fine and good until you take such a propensity to realize just how 20/20 hindsight really is to it's logical extreme: If by God's grace I am granted life into my sixties then I assume that I am going to look back at my life today with the same, "what was I thinking?" awe that I view my adolescence today.

And that my friends, scares me to death.
And to pour salt in the wounds of such realization...I don't have much tangible history from my teens (thank the Lord) but with today's technology there is a good chance that that much of what I do and think could actually be preserved digitally for another 30 years.

Like this blog.

And that scares me even more.
(How can you get scared past death?)

See, I have so much to learn.