After 13 years of use, the yellow/orange engine light shows up on the dashboard of our 2005 Highlander. We called it our travel car as it held oodles of luggage. Our beloved friend that has taken us so many places, far and wide, now needs a new transmission. A repair quote is $5,500 or . . . “Good-bye and adios reliable, old friend.” We know that familiar dashboard readout means “trouble ahead.”

We tend to drive our cars nigh unto their extinction. No interest! No car payments! What’s not to love about that? Someplace within life’s scene, a lot of us come to realize a little truth that goes like this: I don’t know how long I am going to live, or how much maintenance I may need to see life to its end. We all love the idea of living long—with good health. There’s a price tag, though. After living seven or eight decades, changes do come to both body and purse. Usually, earning power is either “gone,” or greatly lessened by then. We hold great hope for our mental engines not to quake and shake, leaving us high and dry. And, we slow down a bit desiring minimal body dings and dents.

Wisdom is a great thing. And, thankfully it comes. Yes, it is there for us, no matter what age. When we reach “senior-hood,” wisdom can take on a cranky voice at times, like, “Don’t hit the road for a long trip in an old car.”  

Gary and I are still on the go and at least at times feeling “partially” invincible. Until recently, we saw a bit of the world. However, for Gary his world exists in a sphere “where the sky meets the ground.”

There is a comely essence about us seniors, particularly if laughter has been a bigger part of our lives, rather than fear and anxiety. Here’s one place that is truly beautiful for seniors. Most of us are at peace with death, seeing it as a natural part of having been given the great gift of a fulfilled life. We know we can’t stay here forever and most of us are quite inclined to be grateful for all the living we have had. It feels great to know our “ducks are in a row,” meaning a will is made, our “end of life” desires are in place—and hopefully, there is money left to ease the load for children when we take off for greater  realms.

Another thing is true for most of us: We don’t want to “go,” yet. Ready? Yes (or we surely hope to be), but this earth can be a nice place to be . . . and we want to keep our connections. Large or small, it feels keen to enjoy what we have built here. Even for people of faith—who know heaven is waiting—this “traveling on” business is “the unknown;” it can hold some apprehension. There is a real tendency to hang onto dear ol’ terra firma, thinking maybe another “tune up” is all that’s needed.

I woke up one night thinking about the statement that’s on our money: “In God we trust.” Moving away from “that” trust, means our trust is placed on ourselves and what we can do in this life. Dr. Phil would say, “How is that working for you?” . . .  especially when the earth beneath our feet begins to move. Wouldn’t it be nice if our lives included a personal “dashboard,” with a warning light readout of “check engine,” giving us advance notice that services are needed right around the bend, allowing for a little more “readiness” for that trip to the “land beyond?” For most of us, it is always time to place more trust in the Maker . . .  who has an eventual time table for His children to arrive back home, safe and sound.

There are so many passages in Scripture that comfort and lift us up—give us hope and steadfast trust that “everything is going to be OK.” As Robert Browning wrote, “God is in His heavens and all’s right with the world.” I love this “Fatherly” advice for the road of life, “Have not I told you this: “Be strong and of good courage. Be not afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord God is with you wherever you go,” (Joshua 1:9), Wow! How comforting. We take God with us everywhere we go!

When you pray, do you listen, as well? Or, does your voice do all the talking? Listening, in hopes of hearing God is a true adventure. You may experience something close to what I “heard” early this morning, “Stay close, trust and do your best. I’m right here; you are not alone.” With that message, I feel no fear. No anxiety. All is well, at least in my soul. And, that is where the rubber meets the road.

Now, it’s time to hit the road, as there are still many miles to go! And, God will lead us as we put our trust in Him. He will bring us through. Meanwhile, staying in a stance of gratitude, no matter what comes—we are in “our most healthy place”—with fabulous rpms ready to move us on to wherever the road will take us. Let’s choose the “high road.”