Blindly promising tomorrows

I’ve been home for a little over a week, and things have already picked up. School started yesterday. My internship starts in a few weeks, and I graduate in three months. Oh, and it’s time to find a job. My days spent sitting in front of Big Ben are long gone.

Despite the chaos, I’m ecstatic to be home. When asked what I was most excited for when I came home, I said my family and friends.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to say hello again to one of these friends.

Late Friday night one of the women from my church suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. She was one of the sweetest ladies and constantly told everyone around her how much she loved them. In fact, the last time I saw her was before I left for my trip in May. She shoved some money in my hand for the trip, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me and told me she loved me. Neither of us knew it would be the last time we saw each other.

She had a way of speaking to people daily how someone would speak to people when they knew they’d never see them again. She made every word count.

And as some of us reminisced on her life, we all said the same thing: she always told you how much she loved you.

We don’t know when our time will be up here. We like to tell ourselves it will be in our 80s or 90s, but in all reality it could be tomorrow. I’m guilty of promising myself too many tomorrows.

If you knew you only had a limited amount of time left on this earth, how would you choose to spend it?

Would you travel the world? Would you buy something you had been saving for? Would you be on your phone as much as you usually are?

Suddenly all of these things become insignificant. Checking Instagram just doesn’t seem as important. Spending all of your waking hours working just doesn’t seem sensible.

So here’s my question for you:

If these things would be insignificant in the wake of death, why aren’t they insignificant now? You don’t know when you’ll breathe your last. You don’t know what kiss will be the last on someone’s cheek.

I’m not saying you can never pick up your phone again or should never work a day in your life again. What I’m saying is keep things in perspective. Being away for three months made me appreciate the people in my life more.

You can’t take things with you, but you can take people. Relationships are the only thing that matter in the end, and I think this woman knew that. That’s why she invested so much in others.

I didn’t plan on writing about such a heavy topic, but when you see someone live their life with such love it’s worth writing about.

So tell people you love them. Spend more time with those that matter. Look up from your phone once in a while. Stop checking your email every 10 minutes.

Invest in others and let others invest in you.

People are what matter. Love is what matters.

 

P.S. We’ve had two people from my church pass away within the past week. It would mean a lot if you could say a quick prayer for Cora Kennedy’s and Sam Brown’s families as well as for our church family. Both were amazing people who truly showed God’s love to anyone and everyone.

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One thought on “Blindly promising tomorrows

  1. Thanks again for your insightful thoughts! We should all take a step back, look at what we’re doing and evaluate what’s really important. And as you said, it’s loving people. Making an eternal impact on those we come in contact with. Psalm 144:4 says we are like a breath, our lives are like a passing shadow. I don’t want to stand before God someday ,alone, having brought no-one with me . Sam and Cora were both great examples of loving others and I think they will be surrounded by others who they brought with them.
    Love you,
    Dad

    Like

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