Earth Bound Existence

Birthdays are entirely a matter of perspective.

At 10, the ranch hand was consumed with rompin' in the outdoors, gobblin' groceries, and generally rough shodding thru life with a grin for bein' so lucky to be alive.

At 20, the baby Trooper felt invulnerable, invincible, dog bite proof, and ten feet tall.

At 30, one begins to reflect a bit on solidifying a long term financial and professional strategy (mixed with a more measured amount of bravado and impunity).

At 40, a certain comfort level is assumed due to perceived increased financial security, professional accomplishment, and the innocently naive belief that it will last forever?

At 50, ya start to spend entirely too much time wondering about twinges, aches, pains, soreness, and "why the heck don't my clothes fit anymore"?

The ole ranch hand hits the 6-0 mark in a few. He would confess to looking backward as much as frontward here lately. A life lived, some part of life left to live.

An ole fart can't change one dang thing about the past; not the good, and certainly none of the bad. Ya just gotta make each day count as one that ya did ya best for the right reasons at the right time.

Here's to the future, each remaining blessed day on earth, ,and the saving grace of my Lord and Heavenly Father.

Help me, oh Lord, to value each day, wring every last ounce of pleasure from the same, and to make a positive difference in the world and all contacted for my remaining time of earth bound existence.