Last night I posed a question to you that someone had posted as their Facebook status yesterday. The question is hypothetical in nature ... meaning that it is asking for an answer to a situation that is imaginary or not real. As far as I can determine, unless one plans to implement his or her own exit from this world, no one knows when the last day of his or her life will arrive. I completely agree with the words of my dear friend Cindy when she wrote, "We should live every day in hope of tomorrow." I also would postulate, however, that many of us would approach our final 24 hours in a different manner if we knew they were our last 24 hours. I requested that you comment on my blog with your answers, but as I suspected and anticipated, I got emails and private FB messages more than public comments. And some of the answers about your plans for your final day of life were ... well ... some of them were hilarious, some were tender and sweet, some were sorrowful and alluded to a life filled with regrets, some were secular, some were religious ... but all of them were ... well ... yours. So now ... here's my own answer to the hypothetical question ... if I knew that tomorrow was my last day of life, how would I live it out?
I'd get up early, really early, and I'd get on my knees by the side of my bed and pray that God would fill every nook and cranny of my being with His presence for the day ahead. I would pray that He would open my eyes and my heart ... that I would see and feel the miracles within each moment. I would eat six eggs for breakfast instead of two, and I would cook some for Julie and Ollie as well. I would tell those two furry friends of mine how much I loved them and how grateful I was for their unconditional loyalty and devotion. I would have a Starbucks venti cafe vanilla frappucino with extra, extra, extra whipped cream and thick, gooey caramel sauce. I would spend time with the people I love most in this world ... my kids. I would hug them and love them and laugh with them and wonder if the imprints of their beautiful smiles and their dancing eyes would go with me into eternity. I would call my brother and sister and my nieces and nephews and tell them I love them and that I wouldn't have chosen any other people to be my family even if I could have. I would look into the eyes of my dear friends and thank them for their faithfulness and love, and I would encourage them to treasure every second that God bestows upon them. I would have another Starbucks venti cafe vanilla frappucino with extra, extra, extra whipped cream and thick, gooey caramel sauce ... or five or 10. I would go for a long walk and soak in the beauty of God's creation. I would take Julie and Ollie for a swim in the creek, and I would wade in the water with my hounds. I would sing at the top of my lungs and not care who heard me. I would hug a stranger or two and feed someone who had no food. I would linger in God's Word and rest in His promises. As the sun dipped low in the sky, I would dance and dance and dance.
And just before the stroke of midnight, I would post my final entry to this blog and I would pen the following words ... the most important words ever written: "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16
1 comment:
I love reading what you write. I don't love what you are struggling with, but I love that you are brave enough to put it out there. Out there for anyone and everyone to see, opening yourself to the comments that may or may not come and that may if may not be supportive. My prayer for you is peace. From the darkness you have, for your new grandbaby, for your children and for your walk. Both literal and spiritual. I'm good at encourgement here, but not so much in person. I do look for you on Wed. And Sun. But don't know if a hug, a touch, would bring forth something you don't want to. Know you have many lifting you up, always.
Post a Comment