Every now and then I start to wonder about life.  Not so much about mine, not so much about yours, but about life as it is general.  I was driving home around half past noon.  The same way, the same way always.  But, at high noon, in the middle of summer, some things look crisper, some things look duller.

An old house, small on a big lot of full of dry grass, looked crisper.  It is quite old.  Its lack of size dates it to a time when big things did not matter; the chipped white paint and a shutter hanging by only a single brace also dates it to time’s past.

As if the perfectly centered sun in the sky illuminated only the house itself, I took a good long look at it.  There were four vehicles lining the dirt driveway.  All, too, were from a different time than the one I find myself in the throws of.  One word came to me, one word for the house, the land, and the vehicles.  Neglect. 

Judging by the design of the vehicles, such material treasures would have been popular in the late seventies, early eighties at the latest.  Coupled with the house, the era made sense.  Only after this time did size start to matter so much.  Only after this time was it inconceivable to not have separate rooms for each child and their toys. 

What was the property like, then, in the late seventies?  Full of energy, vibrancy, meaning?  And if so, what had happened in the interim?  Some could say life happened.  Some could say it was simply time.  I, myself, did not stop to ponder as much.  As with a great many things in this world, I inevitably come to the point where I ask, “Will this happen to me?”

Will my home succumb to just passing one day to another for the next thirty years?  Will such be a reflection of my life and attitudes?  Another word came to me.  Complacency.  It usually predicates neglect, does it not?  And a step further in that direction is pride.  

My imagination, overactive to be sure, started to put together a story behind the little old house and the vehicles so untouched their windows were caked with dry dust from year after year of fall breezes. 

A family.  Father works hard, mother raises children.  Most did in those times.  There was always enough money.  Enough for the cars, enough for the food, enough for the heat in the dead of winter, and a little extra for a brand new pair of roller skates at Christmas.  But faith was misplaced.  It was put in the now, the have to haves, and of course, their youth. 

And yes, life happened.  Time happened.  Pride, then complacency, then neglect.  And finally, the warning.  Best transcribed by Solomon for his closing remarks in Ecclesiastes:

“Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth,
  Before the difficult days come,
  And the years draw near when you say,
  I have no pleasure in them”

           * * *
  “Then the dust will return to the earth as it was,
  And the spirit will return to God who gave it.
   “Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher,
   “All is vanity.”

        & nbsp;   * * *

“Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:

 Fear God and keep His commandments,
 For this is man’s all.
 For God will bring every work into judgment,
 Including every secret thing,
 Whether good or evil.”

        & nbsp;       &n bsp;       &nb sp;       &nbs p;   Ecclesiastes 12:1, 7-8, 13-14