One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes—it's business as usual for old planet earth. Ecclesiastes 1:4 (MSG)
It's official. I'm getting old. It's a subtle shift, but unmistakable. My daughters and their friends are the emerging generation, bursting out of adolesence, full of energy and the desire to make a difference in the world. I'm all for them. They have seen as much, if not more, of the world than I have. My eldest is getting ready to spend three months serving in the third world. I couldn't be more proud.
At the same time, I find myself feeling shrugged off in that generational cycle of which the writer Ecclesiastes speaks. I can almost watch the thoughts of the emerging generation as they pass me by. "He's old. Ignore him." My parents, I'm sure, felt the same. As did their parents before them. Sounds exactly like what Solomon was getting at. C'est la vie.
Nevertheless, I'm not done by a long shot. In the end, it may feel like "spitting into the wind" in the grand scheme of things, but I don't think it will. No matter. I've got some serious spitting left to do.