a century of writing

somehow, someway, café in españa has managed to pile up 99 previous posts. this will make it 100. in less than a year i might add. what i ask myself though, is what kind of gift i am giving... on the day we leave behind double digits to enter the daunting but yet secure world of triple i am gifting a lousy post. a post considering only itself and its own shallow glory. i should be treating some tender subject like compassion or powerful concept like forgiveness and yet i sit and hit keys which simply speak of length. longevity. yet even my longevity is subjective. and who am i to be an expert at 23?

if the average lifespan of a healthy male in the western world hovers around 75, then ive nearly covered what could possibly be a third of my life. that makes me stop for a moment. death isn't something i think about everyday. (if you want a strange and random circumstance, Hootie and the Blowfish's song - "when i get to heaven" just came on my random player by circumstance) so chew on that.
i think death is something i want to be prepared for. by prepared i could mean several things. prepared to face the God who made me from dust, several generations back. prepared to give account for how the heck i spent my life, whether i loved, clothed, fed, and sheltered- physically or emotionally or even spiritually. prepared to experience finally being completely human. prepared to let go of what i hold dear here until my hands are finally empty and only holding out for completion. prepared at last to see the fullness of grace and forgiveness it took for me.

there is a book called till we have faces. the title in and of itself leads to me ponder a day when we will finally have faces and be seen and known for who we really are, perhaps simply looking into faces.

well this posting took on a life of its own, perhaps fitting for the beginning of a new era. tomorrow i will come back and see what i've actually written and hopefully not have to change too much.