“Do you ever feel like your future is in the past?”

I heard that question the other day and had to stop and ponder.

As I pondered, I looked out the window, across the street, to the home where we lived for 20+ years. The yellow house we moved into, overgrown with ivy and wisteria and climbing roses on the roof. The house we purchased with plans to knock out walls and sand floors. But first, while working, we camped out in the basement with a space heater and our three small children.

Our daughter, Jocelyn, was the oldest. She was in her “little mother” mode at the time and still wore bangs and tinted lip gloss. Brian, our second, was all about ‘toons. He had a “He-Man” sleeping bag and the power rangers were in full force. William, our youngest, was just out of diapers and hung onto the shirt tails of his big brother and sister.

But…back to the question.

Looking at my home, which really isn’t my home anymore…I can clearly say that owning, restoring, remodeling and living in that yellow, now green, house is in the past. And even as I write these words in the present, they too, quickly become the past. Thus leaves the future.

Futures tend to be full of dreams, hopes and visions. Dreams of vacations, discoveries, explorations. Hopes of achievements, career fulfillment, financial security. Visions of high school graduations, college dorm rooms, weddings, grandchildren.

Some of this future has come to be.

Some still remains to be seen, lived and experienced.

Yet, some will remain undiscovered, unexplored and hidden. Some of the future died along with our youngest son on that dreary fall day in 1997.

Some of that future remains in the past.