As a retired teacher of 30 years, I am constantly encountering former students. Often (pleasantly I have to admit) they say the kindest things to me when we encounter each other. Not too long ago, I happened upon one in a cafe. As I stood listening, she introduced me to her grandkids by informing them that I was a "legendary" teacher from their school's past. I was flattered. But, later, that word stepped upon a sensitive neighborhood in my usually peaceful soul. I pondered. In some very real sense, I am now history. Part of me has "died." It's over . . . one entire part of my life. Legendary? It's history. And other parts, too?
What happened? "Legends" are in the past. As far as my teaching years, it's true. I am "in" the past. It's okay (I think). I worked the front desk of a government agency for nine years after I retired from teaching. Retired from there now, for several years. And, yes, that's over, too. Another death. Another era of my history. You know, you just walk away . . . and going back isn't even an option. You really can "never go home again." A few of your friends may walk away in the general direction you're heading, but even they will eventually, surely turn to tend to their own, personal gardens.
One recalls moments as though reading about them in a book---experiences, people, joys and trials---but my imagination is a frenzied squirrel, darting about indecisively, unable to conjure up a complete image. By chance you learn that such-and-such ex-student is a grandfather and another may even be a great-grandmother! You learn that many have passed away. And, by cliche, it just doesn't seem possible. It doesn't seem possible that that much time has gone by. You remember them as kids. Good grief. It seems warped--eerily distorted. The value of life, I finally conclude, is mysteriously, intimately interwoven with the passing of time.
That spectral passing of time reverberates through the Biblical repetitions of "These are the generations of . . ." and so-and-so begat so-and-so. Those passages nearly impossible to read emphasize something that happens in each of our lives. The passing of time---the movement of our lives.
Where is my rambling going to end? Somewhere here tossing about in a wonderment about time and life and how they do or don't fit into my concept of eternity. I really don't know. I do know that my Hope lies in the resurrection of Jesus Christ---and despite the disdain for this concept nowadays by so many of my fellow Americans, I will claim that belief as a reality . . . and so, in a greater, vital sense, my history is just beginning and has the potential to be so fine! God be with you. He loves you.