As we age we think about endings more, probably because we have experienced so many of them. Some of them just end naturally as the course of life on this world: childhood, teenaged years, know-it-all twenties, parenthood, middle aged, 50s, 60s, 70s—you know the drill. We mark this with birthdays that range from celebration to little white lies.

Some of the endings are geographical, even for those who are still living the the house they were born in. Different classrooms, churches, businesses, dentists, grocery stores. We need to buy new clothes that fit, vehicles that run, and books—so many books. I remember my mom sorting what to take along on another move. Tears leaked as she said, “They’re just things.” Things hold memories for us, and we have to leave them behind.

And then there are relationships. People move away. People get mad and leave. People die.

Which brings me back to my first idea: birth, aging, death.

Death is an alone thing. I die myself, and I will no longer participate with my loved ones on earth in whatever their future holds. And I wonder what I will leave behind? My living relatives aren’t expecting money or property, but I can leave them my faith shown throughout my life, but faith is also something they will need to choose for themselves.

I would like to follow Moses’ moving example of blessing a future in which I will not be a participate. I don’t have to be there in order to bless those who are living the next chapter. My earthly life is over. I have done all the preparing, teaching, blessing, and loving that I could do in the days I was given. And then, my faithfulness—to God, to relationships, to people—will be finished for this life time. So, I want to entrust whatever comes next to God and pour His blessings on all those living in future days.

I don’t need to be in it to bless it. God will always be there. And I’ll be in the room in heaven that has my name on the door.

PS. There is no imminent threat to my life that I know about, but at my age, having lived through 6 cancer rodeos, my thoughts turn this way more often than when I was in the busyness of parenting. Moses didn’t get to reach the Promised Land in his lifetime on earth (Deuteronomy 34:5). He could have been bitter. He could have been wondering who could possibly take up the yoke of his impossible job. But, instead, he blessed future generations.

Lord, grant me the persistent faithfulness of Moses. The future is in your hands. Bless those who live in it.