The news of her death stunned me. Partly because she was the embodiment of my childhood dreams. Partly because she had once seemed too perfect for what appeared to me a flawed ending. Partly because I saw my life would be nearly extinguished had our roles been reversed.
Talent. Spirituality. Femininity. Godly leadership. She possessed them all. Observing from a distance, I noted her life—and her death.
She "home schooled all her children and coached them diligently in their piano and string practicing," the obituary read. At 23, I had already written that in my plans for myself. She "was a humble and kind homemaker who always had serving others as her goal." That was somewhere on the blueprint I had designed. A women's speaker who encouraged others. That, too, was on my list of goals.
But just yesterday, stark reality met dreamy uncertainty. News of her home-going awakened a deep spring somewhere in the depths of my being. For any moment wasted at the wishing well of what ifs, I had only an uncertain number of nows. This day, for one. This breath for another.
Every precious second counted. Every minute mattered. Every day demanded delight. I had the gift of the present, the reality that may be lost at any time. Do I drink deeply at the well of thanksgiving, daily rebounding from the plethora of blessings poured out from my ever good Giver?
Oh, how this moment’s preciousness sparkled in my mind as I considered well the uncertain brevity of life. May I never forget the vapor that is life!