I REMEMBER a television show years ago called, Mastermind. It began with spooky, suspenseful music and included a darkened environment where contestants would pit themselves and their ‘special subject’ of expertise against the host. After the host got to know the candidate, they’d start the quiz by saying, ‘... and your time starts now.’
Any of us can begin living the life we’ve always wanted to live right now; we don’t have to wait for tomorrow or next week, next month or next year. (Or worse, never.)
What sort of life am I always alluding to? It’s a life of freedom from any number of ghosts and torments of the past; of your childhood; of your unmet work goals; of your failed marriage(s); of your run-off-the-rails children; of your unrealised professional tennis career... of anything that leaves you feeling unworthy.
Is it possible that you might feel completely worthy and fully adjusted and reconciled to everything you’ve ever done or plan to do? Possibly. But it’s hardly likely.
We tend to get used to accepting second (or seventeenth) best in this life. Pulled through the ringer a few times and we start to get it alright. ‘Okay, this is how I need to play this game,’ is the sentiment, completed with a few nods, a wink and a shuffle or two—as we catch on.
One thing I learned from the Invictus poem of William Ernest Henley’s is that there are things that hover over us and hem us in. Yet, in all circumstances we can still be masters of our fates, the captains of our souls. For me, God is placed there as my director. But he’s placed me in charge of my destiny. I am still captain; he is navigator.
Thinking we have such power over our own destinies, we climb into a new day with freshened confidence for an onslaught to life brimming with hope.
Today, the first day of the rest of our lives.
© 2010 S. J. Wickham.
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