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“There comes a time in your life when you realize

you have more yesterdays than you have tomorrows.”

(Grey’s Anatomy)

I am now a card carrying member of that club    
I have more yesterdays than I do tomorrows.

I’d never thought of it that way.

Well – never as more than a fleeting thought anyway.
And it’s kind of weird to think about really.
But important.

Statistically speaking, average life expectancy figures give me another 30 years – and while on one hand that seems like a lot of time, on the other hand, it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

Especially when I look at my children.  And my precious baby granddaughter.

Knowing  with a certainty that brings tears to my eyes that one day, long before I am ready, I will be called to leave them.

And just that quickly, I’m thinking about those tomorrows (and my life in general) in a different way.    

How will I spend tomorrow?   

What kind of yesterdays will I add to my existing accumulation?
Will the glass holding my last remaining years be half full or half empty?

Will I raise my glass in a toast, holding it high in anticipation for what is still to come or will I look at what has already been consumed and hold onto sadness or complications or resentment or worse, regret for what has already passed by or happened and can’t be changed?   

And maybe ( just maybe) it’s not about doing and seeing and being more than I already am  and having more than I already have as much as it’s taking what I’ve done, the places I’ve been and everything I’ve seen and sitting down  comfortably in the middle of my life - letting it be good and easy and graciously simple for the rest of my life. 

Yep – it’s somewhat weird to think about.

But it’s important.
For me anyway.

Because this is where I choose. 
Where I set the intention and the mood and the stage.
The proverbial hill where I plant my flag. 
Where I decide whether to live in the years that hold my yesterdays or the years that hold my tomorrows.

The choice seems so much more important to me now than it did when I was younger and had time stretched out in front of me in what seemed like an endless supply. 

And  I want to choose wisely.

Intentionally.
Consciously.
Mindfully.

Every moment of every day of every year of the rest of my life.

Because I can’t get any of those yesterdays back.  Or change them.
Only the tomorrows.

It’s kind of ironic – at the start of the year I declared January as the official “let your life be wonderful” month, but now I realize that one month is not nearly long enough.  There’s a whole lot more wonderful out there and I am going to be in pursuit of each second of it.

“There comes a time in your life when you realize you have

more yesterdays than you have tomorrows.”

Yea.

And maybe that realization changes things for you.
Like it did for me.

It is said that at the moment of our death we are held accountable not just for what we did in our life, but also for what we didn't do.  The opportunites for happiness and joy and love and laughter we let pass by.

I don't want to miss one more moment of any of that.

And so I look at the glass in my hand still holding enough liquid to take some lusty gulps and I raise it in a toast, “For all that has been,  thank-you.  For all that will be, yes.*” 

Bring on the wonderful - for tomorrow and for yesterday.

For it all.

However long that is.

(*a simple prayer by Dag Hammerskjold)