I walked into class and immediately noticed that I was one of the oldest people there. There was one woman who looked like she was in her 40's, but for the most part, it was the young crowd. I couldn't believe it. I had been told that there would probably be a lot of older people- especially during summer term. I grabbed a desk and slouched down, feeling completely miserable for myself.
As the professor came in and started class, I was just going over in my head how embarrassing it was to be sitting in that class. I was so out of place and just had the worst attitude.
Then the door opened.
In walked this man, probably in his late 70's. He had a cane and a rolling backpack, and settled himself in a seat next to the door.
And I cried.
I cried for his courage. I cried for my selfishness. I cried for his strength. I cried for my lack of strength. I cried for his perseverance. I cried for my wallowing in self-pity. I cried for his determination. I cried for my weakness. I don't think anyone else noticed my crying, but I sure as heck remembered a VERY valuable lesson. It's never too late.
A few months ago, when I was contemplating quitting my job and going back to school, I came across an article about a courageous Kenyan student who went back to primary school at the age of 84. I couldn't believe his courage and determination in doing that. I printed off the article, and it now sits right on my desk in plain sight. I doctored it up a little, and added the saying "It's never too late" to the side, just to remind myself to keep going. I look at it daily.
We all experience hard things. We make decisions and accept consequences. I have made decisions in my life that have led me to this point, and by heck I'm going to do it! This has become my mantra- "It's never too late!"
