milestones. tragedy. hope.

the problem: why are the milestones of passing time anticipated and celebrated with such excitement? new years, birthdays, anniversaries. all of them celebrated with champagne and close friends. the mere thought of having already had so many miles of this road called life, pass me by breaks my heart. so many days have been wasted on me. i who think of nothing but my own satisfaction. eagerly lusting after the world.

the hope: each day i have a blank page. a story that has not yet been written. a story that will be written no matter what. a story that will take whatever twists and turns i am willing to write into it. a story which numerous chapters have already been written; whether they add or take away from it i have yet to find out. a story where the climax is of no more interest to my audience of one, than every other word written. a story in which i am the main character but also a story which revolves around something bigger than me. a story where the end defines every aspect of the individual portrayed. a story which is not a hip, relevant, culturally acceptable, new-age theory, or theology. you cannot put down this story a whim.

the conclusion: so, perhaps we only laugh to keep from crying. perhaps we celebrate the passing of time so that we aren't required to ponder what is truly at stake. i want the people who read my story to be inspired, encouraged and filled with hope.