A few weeks ago, my youngest sister turned fifty-five.  It's hard to believe.  I could say that life moves quickly, that we don't always see what is coming, that life is fragile and fleeting, or that we often miss what's right before our eyes.  These are all well worn responses and observations.  And they are largely true.
     What amazes me most about my little sister turning fifty-five, however, is that the life that we have both been given, a life that has traveled many days and miles in us, together and apart, is a life that remains, when all is said and done, a life ever unfinished and undone.  We have lived and loved richly, we have tasted all manner of joy and sweetness.  But we always see more.  We will always experience new things.
     In this is the final wonder:  we will never know the fullness of existence until it ends.  For that's when it will really begin.