God does not ask about our ability, but our availability. Unknown

This past weekend we went to the funeral of an old friend from church; Ruth was 84 year old. Her husband, Art had died two years earlier. Both were great people, people you would like to know, people you could talk to. Ruth and Art were as one would say, members of the Old Guard. Her two sons, who survive her and her husband, are now the "new" Old Guard. The sons have older children, who will one day have children of their own. Neither of the sons expected to become a member of the Guard, they were placed into that position upon the death of their parents.

Whenever you replace your boss, your supervisor, or survive your last living parent, you also assume that position. It is not given to you ceremoniously or with a lot of fanfare; it is thrust upon you with the suddenness of a summer thunderstorm and with it a downpour of emotion. You have been tossed the football and you're expected to run with it; you're expected to carry on with the burdens of that "office" as your subordinates, your family now look up to you. You have achieved that rank by shear attrition, not by vote of confidence or by admiration. It is a office you neither ran for, sought, or were nominated.

You wonder to yourself, "it wasn't that many years age when I was scrutinizing the "new" Old Guard at a funeral, retirement party, or company downsizing. "Where has the time gone?" Ben Franklin penned it so nicely under the nom de plume of Poor Richard's Almanac, "time and tide wait for no man." Very subtle, very much to the point, and very final.

What you do with that time you're in "office" will determine your legacy. Will you be a sob or a saint, an ass hole or the best person that ever lived? You have that time to fill, to lead, to guide. You have that choice to make; choose wisely. Ruth and Art were great people; I assume their sons will continue to do as well. Time will tell; but if I truly know Ruth and Art, their children will be OK.
K