This morning, as Fall falls all over us, I'm pondering buckets, as in the kicking of them.
I'm pondering the lack of substantial time left in a life not always lived to its fullest. I'm pondering tiny achievements, and pondering the next few dozen steps or so.
At some point recently, the film The Bucket List was shown on television. You might know the 2007 movie, directed by Rob Reiner, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. The film's plot follows two terminally ill men (Nicholson and Freeman), who go on a road trip with a wish list of things to do before they "kick the bucket." Though that synopsis seems a little maudlin, I actually remember the movie as being quite funny.
At some point yesterday, someone on the television show Bones talked about their bucket list. Among the character's bucket list items on the TV production were going to the real Area 51, being shot out of a cannon, living in a villa in Tuscany, rock cliff climbing, having the absolutely perfect wedding dress, winning the Nobel Prize, and buying a drink for the "guy who did the free-fall from space."
The great and powerful Oz stands at the end of the yellow brick road, but I have no intention of dancing my way down that path. Instead, I simply began to ponder just what I could do with a list of things I should do, must do, could do before I, too, kick that aforementioned bucket.
Mark Houlahan wrote, "If you want your life to be a magnificent story, then begin by realizing that you are the author and every day you have the opportunity to write a new page."
Let's write some pages, dear readers.
My bucket list includes:
A. Going to the Grand Canyon and marveling at what God does in his spare time.
B. Going to a Super Bowl that features a blowout victory by the Saints.
C. Go back to Reno, Nev., with my dear wife Mary. I spent 10 long months there as executive sports editor when I was 30 years old, and I would like to head back to those mountains to see them again as a new man, redeemed by the blood of Jesus. Grace fills me now where disappointment and failure were my only companions all those years ago.
D. Go back to West Virginia. My father grew up there, and there are relatives I haven't seen or talked to since I was a senior in high school, which was around the time Moses came down from the mountain with a new tablet that would knock an I-Pad out of the park. I'd like to reacquaint myself with his side of the family.
E. Have reunions with those friends in the newspaper industry who all are doing other things now.
F. See one or more of the young-uns excel at whatever they want to excel at, so I can wear some kind of ditzy tee-shirt that says something like THAT TINY DANCER IS MINE.
G. Preach at the Louisiana Annual Conference (though doing so before all those elders and local pastors and talented laity would scare me into an early grave, hence messing up the whole bucket list agenda in the first place).
H. Attend a worship service at writer/pastor Max Lucado's church in San Antonio and listen to the Holy Spirit spread the Gospel through his exciting, passionate words.
I. Drive to Hawaii. Oh, I understand that business about water, deep, deep water, being in the way, but I don't like to fly and I've never been on a boat for that long of a trip, so let's get the ol' highway to Hawaii paved. Let the sharks be disappointed.
J. See a brilliant fall morning in New England, with the magnificence of the changing of the color of the leaves.
K. See our son Jason sign a record contract and attend his first concert in a filled stadium.
L. Take a cruise, to anywhere, that is so smooth I never realize I'm on a boat (for reasons, see above).
M. Go back to New York with my family. I last went to the Big Apple when I was 14. I suspect it might have changed in the interim.
N. Live long enough to see my novel published. Since it apparently will be a very cold day in Hades before it is published, I guess that means I will live a long, long time.
O. Take my wife on whatever journey she feels up to, for as along as she desires, so that she be dressed in a joy that surpasses all understanding, the kind of joy that sparkles on dew-covered mornings.
P. Never, never, never go sky diving, no matter how many times I'm asked to go.
Q. Live long enough to see the mighty works of Jesus move people to fill all the churches in all the countries in all the world.
R. See my Aunt Elsie again, who was an adult when Elijah was a kid, smiling and laughing and giggling like she often did when she would come for visits.
S. Throwing out the first pitch before a seventh game of the World Series, featuring the Atlanta Braves as they head to their second championship in my lifetime.
T. Meet Stephen King, and spent an hour or two talking writing, relishing words like they were friends and neighbors.
U. Meet Bill Gates, and spent an hour or two talking about how and why he thought the world needed a computer in every home, and what a giggle every time he mentions hitting control, alt, delete and watching something important disappear from the task manager.
V. Visit the White House and have no terrorists take it over while I'm there, linger long and hard on a misty cool day at Mount Rushmore, look down at the clouds from the top of Mount Hood, touch the monuments in Yankee Stadium and remember the greatness of the Mick, snap a leaf or two from the Ivy in Wrigley Field, and stand on a wrap-around deck that surrounds a log cabin near Denver with a steaming cup of pumpkin spice coffee keeping the chill away as I ponder a couple feet of fresh snow on the slopes that I will never ski on.
W. Find out just who my birth parents were, for the heck of it, and see once and for all if I have brothers or sisters.
X. Go to a worship service at singer/song writer Michael W. Smith's church, and simply let the music played and sung there wash over me like 20-foot waves off the coast of California.
Y. Oh, why not?
Z. See Jesus coming in the sky and finally rising to meet him as if I was suddenly Superman, knowing that I will meet him, his Father, and all those clouds of witnesses just before my last breath happens. No bucket list can be complete without a sincere desire to see Jesus, be held by Jesus, be comforted by Jesus.
The Apostle Paul completes his journey by writing these words:
"As for me, my life has already been poured out as an offering to God. The time of my death is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me -- the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me, but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing."
My God, How Great Thou Art. Let's do some bucket kicking, dear friends.
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