I've Rushed Right Into The Golden Years

Golden Years By: Lillian "Carol" Russell I suppose that as children, time seems to move slowly, I know it did for me. I was in a hurry to be grown, to conquer the world. I had dreams to fulfill, I was anxious to grow up, ready to run the race of life. As we get older, the miles we've trod on the road of life fade into vague memories. We find ourselves looking back through the gossamer veil of time, thinking a lot about yesterday, amazed and wondering where the years went. We still feel young at heart, but our bodies tell a different story. Someone aptly said that life is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer to the end it gets the faster it goes. We marvel at the brevity and often the foolishness of our youth. A wise old saying so often comes to mind now days as I watch young people speeding about with no direction to their lives: “Youth is wasted on the young.” How wise the person who coined that phrase. Youth is spent in the fast lane, for the most part in a state of unawareness of the world around. We all start out self-centered; our need is all that matters to us. Maturity begins when you think more of others than of yourself, when you realize that the world does not revolve around you. Only with age do we become wise enough to treasure each moment in life. That is why we grandparents love our grandchildren so much, we know about the ticking of the clock. We spoil them a bit because we were not wise enough to spend the extra time with our own children. We were just too busy working, running to school events and just trying to keep them fed and clothed. I am so thankful that God in His wisdom slows us down and allows us golden years of reflection. How sad it would be if we rushed headlong to the end, never fully appreciating our Lord and savior and the wonders He has created for us. AFTER LIFE'S BRIEF FLING By: Lillian Carol Russell Not a sign of a cloud in the sky today, The breeze is cool that blows my way. The trees look so sad I could almost cry, As they reach their bare arms to the bright blue sky. Around my feet the leaves lie dead, No lovely colors of green, gold or red. Soon the air will lose it's chill, Once more to spring our hearts will thrill. The flowers will bloom, the grass will grow, Once more earth will begin the greatest show. Winter like death is a cold lonely thing,  It would be unbearable without the promise of spring. My life would be the same if I didn't know, That my Savior has prepared a place for me to go. More beautiful is heaven than the rarest bloom is spring, And heaven shall be mine after life's brief fling. Because Jesus, shed His Blood and bore my pain, After the winter of my life, heaven shall be my gain . No death, no sickness, no tears will I shed there, To the beauty of heaven, not even spring can compare.