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Sometimes I feel strapped for time. Not in the "I have a deadline and so many things to do in only two days" kind of way. More like, I've finished the first third of my life (or so) and what have I to show for it? I don't know why this has been plaguing the recesses of my mind lately. Maybe it's because I know that administration is not my life's calling and I'm itching to get back to the work that gets my heart and soul and brain stirred up. This is why sometimes it's good to read obituaries.

Today in my hometown paper I read about a respected Alaskan artist who died at 92. Turns out she didn't start art classes until she was 39. My first thought was not "I have time!" it was "What a rich life a person can live when they don't stop at 28 or 35 or 40 and think 'That's it. I've reached my peak.'" It's good to remember that our lives are really mysteries unfolding before us each day. Who knows what new turns or twists lay up ahead? Who knows what I'll be known for when I kick off in my 90s? I sure hope it's for more than administration or the list of "survived by".

I am confident it will be.

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theatokos

October 2010

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