Rev. Dr. William G. Grice, III
Seventy-eight.
When I was a kid, those who reached seventy-eight seemed ancient. Ancient, like Egyptian mummies, should be in a museum or mausoleum. What did I know as a kid? I acknowledge and own up to my naivete and ignorance.
Seventy-eight.
Now, since I’ve celebrated my December birthday, it doesn’t seem so old. My birthday is the day before New Year’s Eve. One day before the end of the year. A day toward the conclusion of that in-between week of doing things that people seem to do, from boxing up stuff, to attending more parties, to traveling, to staying home, and to perhaps – if one is just in the right mood – to reflect upon life: where one has been; where one is now; and where one is going.
Seventy-eight.
Where have I been? Lots of places. And I feel blessed to have people who have shared the places with me, people who have contributed to shaping me into the person I am today. I can name the places I’ve been and what meaning each place holds in my life. I recall the people who were with me. I remember their faces, their personalities, and their unique gifts that encouraged and inspired me to become who I am today. I look back. I am grateful.
When you look back, are you grateful, too?
Seventy-eight.
I look around to see where I am. Some things haven’t changed, even in Des Plaines. I live in a house that’s been in my family since it was built in 1898. It’s the place where I grew up. I suppose one could say I haven’t gone very far in my seventy-eight years. Or maybe I’ve come full circle. I’m back to where I started.
Around Des Plaines, buildings, churches, houses, and neighborhoods look the same as they did seventy-eight years ago. Occasionally, while driving along Algonquin Road, I notice an old tree, one that’s tall with a thick trunk. I recall walking or riding my bike past that tree when I was a kid. It’s comforting to feel some things haven’t disappeared yet. Some things are the same.
However, I also feel that some changes have touched me personally in a heart-wrenching way. There are times I long to share a conversation with a family member or best friend from elementary school, high school, or college who never made it to seventy-eight. I wish they were still here with me.
When you think about where you are now, do you see what’s the same and what’s different? Do you long to be with someone who’s no longer with you?
Seventy-eight.
Reaching this age, I once considered as ancient as Egyptian mummies, I ask myself, so what’s next? Where am I going?
What I appreciate – I believe now more than at earlier times in my life, although I recognized this then – is how important it is to know that every day is a collection of fleeting moments which disappear as soon as one arrives. As the lyrics of “Deck the Halls” proclaim, “Fast away the old year passes….”
At seventy-eight, it seems minutes, hours, days, and “the old year passes” away considerably faster than they did before.
Where I am going – or at least where I place my focus for the days ahead – is based on those cherished values and beliefs that have guided me across the years.
Both for today and as I look toward tomorrow, I affirm my deepest affections and values for being with and staying in touch with family and friends, for offering vocal and financial support to organizations and causes that mean something special to me as expressions of my interests and beliefs, and for taking time every day to appreciate each moment and to do what I can to make it a better day for others.
When you look to the future, how will you express and act on your values and beliefs?
Seventy-eight.
Every person ages in different ways. At seventy-eight, some people are active and appear young. At seventy-eight, other people are inactive and appear old. At seventy-eight, many people fluctuate between these extremes, and that often depends upon the weather, their moods, their health, their energy, and whatever further considerations one can name.
So, as fast away the old year of 2025 passes and the new year of 2026 arrives, I’ll be spending time reflecting on where I have been, where I am now, and where I am going.
At seventy-eight – after all that reflecting – I’ll be ready for a nap.
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