The Years Ahead

The second Saturday of every month, I attend a Men's Circle. It's one of those places where men can slow down for a couple of hours, listen, reflect, and talk honestly about life. As I was driving there this past Saturday morning, I heard the news that Senator Lindsey Graham had died unexpectedly at the age of seventy-one.

Politics never crossed my mind.

What caught my attention was something much simpler. He was only a year younger than I am. According to the reports, he had been working, traveling, meeting with people, and making plans just hours before. Then, suddenly, his story came to an end. It was another reminder that none of us knows how many pages remain in our own story.

That thought stayed with me during the drive.

At seventy-two, I find myself in an interesting season of life. Most people expect this to be the time when you slow down, settle into a comfortable routine, and spend more time looking backward than forward. Yet I feel almost the opposite. I'm building a new website, writing stories nearly every day, creating videos and podcasts, and working to grow my speaking career in ways that excite me as much as they did when I was thirty.

I'll admit, it's both exciting and a little scary.

Starting something new at my age feels different than it did when I was young. Back then I assumed I had decades ahead of me. Today I realize tomorrow isn't guaranteed. That realization doesn't make me want to do less. It makes me want to do more with whatever time I have left.

I've often said that I plan to live to be one hundred and three. People usually smile when they hear me say that, and I smile too. There is some history behind it. My great-aunt Annie lived to be 103. My grandmother lived to be ninety-eight. Today my mother is ninety-seven years old and continues to inspire our family with her strength and determination.

Good genes are certainly something to appreciate.

But I've lived long enough to know that genes are only part of the story. Behavior matters just as much, and maybe even more. Our family has also known people who died far too young because of unhealthy choices. My grandmother's identical twin had the very same genes, but years of smoking and drinking led to a much shorter life. That lesson has stayed with me for decades.

Longevity isn't simply something we inherit. It's something we help create by the way we live.

That's why I still get up and exercise. That's why I keep reading, writing, learning, and setting goals. That's why I continue looking for ways to serve others instead of asking life to entertain me. Staying active isn't just about adding years to life. It's about adding life to the years.

Sometimes people ask me why I'm working so hard at seventy-two.

The answer is simple. If God blesses me with another thirty years, I don't want to look back and wonder what I could have accomplished. I want to look back at hundreds of stories, thousands of conversations, audiences encouraged, friendships deepened, and lives touched because I chose to keep growing instead of slowly fading away.

Of course, there's another side to all of this. None of us should ignore the practical things. We ought to have our wills in order, our finances organized, and our families prepared. That's an act of love. But once those things are taken care of, I don't believe we're supposed to spend the rest of our lives waiting for the inevitable.

We're supposed to live.

Run the race. Write the book. Start the business. Take the trip. Volunteer. Tell the stories that only you can tell.

One unexpected news story reminded me this weekend that life can change in a single day. It also reminded me that every new day is a gift, and gifts are meant to be used, not stored away.

So I'm going to keep writing. I'm going to keep speaking. I'm going to keep running my race for as long as I'm able. And when my time finally comes, I hope I can honestly say that I died empty because I lived fully.