Iím sitting in a doctorís office, waiting for my annual check up.
Itís an interesting concept, an annual check up. For me, it comes in January, when many people are doing some sort of reviewing and planning anyway. Itís a time for resolutions and regrets. And for remembering.
Although my blood sugar remains unusually high, my own health has been goodógiven a history of colitis and bronchitis, both of which seem to be dormant if not dead. In fact, Iíve only had one significant interaction with the medical establishment since last January, when the hospital in Florida called to tell me my dad had died unexpectedly of a heart attack at the age of 70.
I need to tell my doctor about that, of course. It changes my health history and strategies. But in fact it changes everything. It changes my understanding of self and purpose. It changes my thinking about wellness, and about wealth and about worship.
I have more to think about than those three issues. But in terms of setting priorities and defining limits three is enough to think about for one year. Especially the year I turn 50.
I was reading your Blog. Comment? Your Dad passed at 70, and you are turned 50.
But that doesn't mean that you only have 20 years left, you know. You prolly have more like 30 or 35. Which is darn near the average career span of someone in your father's generation. God rest your father. He was a good man. So are you. But you can't rest yet. You have another career'sworth of time to put in dear. (Unless, of course, you get run over by a dump truck or something.) G.F.