I used the phrase "for the rest of my life" today, saying "Well, I probably won't have that camera for the rest of my life." Then, because my thoughts often turn morbid, I thought immediately "Actually, that might not be such a long time. It might end tomorrow. ... I wouldn't mind having that camera for the rest of my life in that case." So that was that. Or was it? Because then I began to think of all the ways in which that phrase is used, so haphazardly, so disposably, without any real thought as to its real, definitive meaning, and it overtook me again (as it so regularly does) that I am a temporary being on this earth. All things die and return to dust; I am the same. But in a less "macro" way of thinking, what does that mean for me?

Well, certainly it puts squabbles and everyday strife, along with easy distractions or "wastes of time" into perspective. I'm not saying that any of that is meaningless (for because our lives are finite and lived on a time scale, they can be mechanically quantified, and those little things take up a percentage of that number), but rather that even those little things, the throwaway hours, mean far more than I generally think of. Of course, if I were always to keep that thought of mortality in the forefront of my mind, certainly that would preclude me from enjoying any sort of necessary frivolity (I absolutely acknowledge and accept the need for down-time, relaxation, and just plain goofing off), so that would be a mindfully squandered life. It is therefore necessary for me to either make the fact of death an abstract either by blurring it so much that it becomes hard to look at (think about) and I am forced to look away (stop thinking about it), or to zoom out, as it were, so that it seems incomprehensibly far away.

So there I am, talking about my camera and whether I should buy filters that fit the particular camera that I own now or buy an adaptor for bigger filters for a camera I might own later, when I use that phrase "for the rest of my life," and I start to think about death. First, how far away it is, then immediately that it might be tomorrow (or even tonight, or even now! but apparently not now, since I'm still writing this; how ironic would it have been if I had died right after that "this"... anyways), which leads me inexorably to thinking about the common use of the phrase, then to the essential nature of the phrase in common use. That is the way my mind works, I do not apologize for it; nor would I recommend it. However, I did stumble upon that diamond in the rough, that brilliantly shining clarity compressed into a thought: life is precious, and more precious by far than I realize. I had used the end of my life in a trope, so nonchalantly, so carefree, and had discounted the basic reality of it, to my shame.

The end of my life will most likely (upon reflection, I decided to add the "most likely," because really, who knows) not be a fitting end to a glorious life, it won't be funereal fanfare and mourning for a monumental man, and it won't be a lauded affair for my many enemies. No, I think (and hope) it will be quiet and reserved, gently surrounded by those I love (and my many concubines), and will see my soul borne by prayers to meet my magnanimously merciful Maker. No sobbing, no scenes, no trumpets (maybe some muted Debussy on an old piano, but nothing besides that), just the end of the rest of my life.

But in the present day, as I thought about this, I didn't stop there, because I was still stuck on how precious life is, while it is ours. A bit of a sidetrack, but one I will reconnect in time: I have two great fears (aside from the crazy quirky phobias): I fear that I will grow up and change and will turn out to be "evil" or "bad" and will be cast out by the people I love, and I fear that when I die, I will only think about the bad things I've done. Not sure how common these are, but I think I'm not the only one.

For the first fear, I guess it's still tied to the awkwardness of growing up, which process I've not yet learned to embrace as friend (it's still foe). In growing up, I see uncertainty; I see massive, systemic change; I see loss and I see gain, but I don't see which one is bigger. So I don't make plans for the future, because I don't know where I will be, much less who I will be. That's why I never use "for the rest of my life" in the positive. I only use it to affirm that things will not be a certain way for the rest of my life. I do not deal in absolutes, I have learned to count on the variables.

And yet, I fear often that my death will be preceded by a mental list of regrets and woe, so I try (emphasis on "try") to live my life so that I would have as absolutely few regrets as possible. Not in the mainstream meaning of "live with no regrets," which basically gives naïve teenagers a mantra for selfish, stupid living. No, my style is more that I have made a lot of mistakes, and I've seen a lot of consequences for those mistakes, which I then regretted. Therefore, I try to avoid doing those things which will make me regret them, instead of doing things and trying to avoid regretting them. In trying to do this, all I can say is, "thank God for my conscience!" It condemns me when I do wrong, so I can learn to stop. Because what I really want to do is stop. What I really want to do is be good, is to do right, is to obey. That's far easier said than done, but I trust that God is making me more like Christ through my trials, through my struggles, and yeah, even through my failures, no matter how despicable they are.

Why am I saying this? To share with you the only things I can say will be true for the rest of my life. Foremost, I trust and I love my God now, and I will for the rest of my life. Though admittedly, I pray that I will learn to trust and love Him more as time goes by. Also, I will love my family for the rest of my life, even when they really aggravate me. Even then, I still know it. I will love my friends for the rest of my life. Their names may change, or we may not speak for years, or they could fall away, I'll still love them in at least the basest sense of caring for them.

Beyond this, I don't know. Even deep-seated fears or lifelong (to this point) loves, I don't know. I can't say that I'll be scared of heights for the rest of my life, or that I'll love and adore vanilla for the rest of my life. Heights, bugs, enclosed spaces, loud noises, the dark, yeah I'll probably be scared of them until I die. Vanilla, lavender, jasmine tea, chocolate, the rain, yeah I'll probably love them until that day I die. But the God who brought me here and sustained me even when I hated Him and now while I imperfectly try to serve Him and in his infinite patience doesn't strike me down, yeah. I will love Him and the wonderful gifts of people in my life that I cherish (yes, you guessed it) for the rest of my life.

P.S. I intentionally left the arena of romance empty and devoid of my words, even though (I omitted this from my seemingly vivid retelling) this was originally intended to be yet another blind letter to whomever it is that I love. I had planned to talk about how my life was chaotic and the only thing I could count on was that I would love her for the rest of my life. Then I figured I'd have to work God in there somewhere since He's a big part of my life, then I found again that He's really the only constant in my life, and 50% of marriages end in divorce, and Romeo and Juliet were just unrealistic fools, and my crystallized notions of romance shattered. But I still think that some romance can be salvaged from the shards, perhaps a lovely bit of diamond to adorn milady's ring finger when on that day I can say without doubt, "I do, and I always have and I always will love you, for the rest of my life."