A friend’s Facebook post this morning made me think, reflecting as it did on Palm Sunday and the last days of Christ’s life.
Who hasn’t seen circumstances change on a dime? I’m not particularly religious any more, much more spiritual, I’d say. But I’m still struck by the Bible story that shows how Jesus was a rock star in Jerusalem one week, and crucified as a villain the next.
If there is anything life is, it’s uncertain. And it can end at any time, a very harsh reality.
So, when facing a ticking clock, there is nothing worse than regrets, my friend said. And I agree. Whether it’s failing to live fully, putting off needed apologies, or foregoing the chance to let people know you care, assuming they already know.
What were you doing seven days ago? I was stumbling over some writing, watching the skies for snow, and spending the last three hours I had with my son before he left for the military.
I felt panic in the latter instance, cradling each second prayerfully as if there would never be another. I love you, I repeated. I’m proud of you. I’m so glad I know you. When I was finally alone, I allowed myself to wonder if I could survive the goodbye.
A week later, here I am. The writing is done, the snow came and went, and my son is off into his life knowing how much he is cherished, after offering his big heart to me in return. Now, I am fine and I hope he is, too.
Living in the moment has been my thing for a while now. I feel better, and my little world is much brighter even though, to be sure, change is hard. The option — taking the easy road that allows life to pass by– is, well, no longer an option.
Back to the question: if it was my last week, I think I could confidently say I am happy with the choices I am making. The promise of a good life on my terms constantly opens up before me, giving me hope.
This is not without mistakes and roadblocks, for sure. But I am getting there by loving, and being loved, and, when it comes down to it, that’s what the whole journey is about. And, in the end, all that matters.