Where does the time go? For that matter, where did I go? from 1958 at age 16, to 1967 at age 25 to 2012 and I’m not telling you my age for that year. I’ll make you work for that conclusion. The me that once was, the me who was becoming, and the me who is now. I did not say, the me who has been. No way! But I’m still in there, somewhere. The added weight and lines and sags, hair loss and flaws, speak to experience and experiences, to living life, to trying and proving, to learning and knowing, to mistakes and recoveries. I can truthfully say I would not want to go back to relive the years. I might enjoy a youthful body, a blemish free skin, the joy of hair on the top of my face rather than over it. Yet, I do not wish to revisit the uncertainties, the unknown, the questions of those earlier years. Once around the track turns out to be good enough. I am thankful there is still much to enjoy, and I shall do that but because it is predictably troublesome and terminal, I am not eager to live through all that must yet be learned in this stage. I consider myself fortunate rather than deluded, that I have a sure and certain hope about life beyond this, which is the outcome of faith in God who accepts me as his child and has prepared me for whatever is next, by an act done by someone else other than me. Ask me, if you cannot fill in the blanks to your satisfaction. I remain on course.