In her book The Gift Of Years, Joan Chittister poses a question for people who are getting old: “If we cannot deal directly with all the unfinished struggles of our lives, how can we possibly face the end of life with any kind of serenity?”

It’s a good question; I’ve considered it for several years. I’m trying very hard to answer it.

We have all been hurt. We have all done some hurting. We have made big mistakes and created big and painful messes.

We are running out of time to resolve these missteps, misunderstandings, and wrong turns.

So what now? Chittister says the truth is that the unrest and regrets we have accumulated over the years are the very opportunities for grace; the resolution is reserved for the end time, the later years.

I see my time now as the pinnacle of my life, the last chance to do better, to learn from my mistakes and acknowledge them, and to try to make the pain and hurt productivity. To live fully and with meaning.

To turn the ups and downs of my existence into some form of good.

Only now, she argues, can this regret be turned into good.

Why?

Because now I  have to deal with all of it myself. I have nowhere to go but inside. My life is only here.

There is no one to forgive me any longer, no one to tell me I was right in our choices or that I am forgiven for the hurt we have caused, no one left for us to refuse to be with or talk with. There is no longer any excuse for me.

I have no one to answer to for my life but me. I’ve lived in me for a long time; it’s time we met.

Whatever remains alive is inside of me now; there is nowhere to go, at long last, except the deepest part of myself, the only place to go for peace. This is why meditation is so important to me; that is my doorway to truth, honesty, and acceptance; that’s my electric wagon.

I don’t go inside to come to terms with my “enemies” or tormentors; I go there to make peace with myself, with the conscience I have been trying to reconcile all my life. I don’t need to understand myself as much as I need to accept me.

This is the rich and soulful part of life where I look deeply at my heart and soul rather than look outside of myself for the answers to my problems, my understanding of them, or my final chance to fix them.

“This is the time,” writes Chittister, “for facing ourselves, bringing ourselves into the light.”

Some people complain that they have nothing to do when they are old. I would argue that I lack time to do what I want.

Early in their lives, the young struggle to figure out where they want to go in life.

I am struggling over how to end mine with grace and decency.

This is perhaps the most critical time in my life, a period of spiritual and personal reflection, a renewal of life.

At the same time, there is still time because it means something entirely different to me than it ever did.

This is when honesty matters, and I finally come to terms with me.

Do I l like the person that I am? Have I become more honest, loving, caring, and merciful? Am I still learning?

And if the answer is no, as it often is, then what do I have to do to make those things become real?

That’s the challenge of my time, my life, a bittersweet but beautiful affirmation of my life as it nears the end.

A time of joy and hope and also a time of sadness and regret.

I have a lot of work to do.