One of my treasured childhood mementos is a letter from Her Majesty.
Queen Elizabeth's Lady in Waiting. I'd sent Her Majesty a birthday card, never thinking that I'd get any kind of a response. Holding that elegant card, signed by hand and tucked into a just-as-elegant envelope made me feel like a resident of Buckingham Palace. I took it out often, read the words, then carefully placed it back in its special place in my bedroom.
I clearly remember Princess Elizabeth's ascent to the throne. She was twenty-six years of age; I was nine. Following the national period of mourning that accompanied her father's death, we celebrated the transformation of a shy princess into what she was to become, an admired and respected Queen. She's now eighty-six years of age, still beautiful and still incredibly "on the ball".
For those of us who are citizens of a country belonging to the British Commonwealth, this has been a memorable weekend: the commemoration of six decades of life in a regal fishbowl. It's also been a time of personal reflection for me.
I have no intention either of becoming morbid or of sitting back and giving up but the reality is I'm getting older. That wouldn't be a problem if I didn't have all these projects I want to complete before my life is ended. At the top of the list are at least two books that are begging to be written (keeping my desk looking like a TV show makeover has been scratched off the list - I've decided to love it, without the big reno budget).
A friend and business colleague taught me the importance of taking baby steps so this week's step is a writing retreat. I can't disappoint those begging books!
"Direct my steps by Your word" Psalm 119:133
Decades ahead, here I come!
