It's been quiet around here.
Three weeks ago today, the world lost someone very special. Yet since then nothing else has stopped. There's been lunches to make, deadlines to meet, traffic to sit in, laundry to wash. The shedding of tears, the grief, the surreal nature death possesses, especially when unexpected, is not wrapped tidily in a package with a black bow. Rather, the void death leaves is ambiguous; emotions spin and the nagging reminder of the gravity of our choices - the legacy we chose in our one life - taps at our shoulder: What really matters?
Of all I say or do in my child's life, what's going to stick? Do they know I love them? Do they know how truly sorry I am at the many times I yelled at them over petty nuisances? Do they know I've always wanted to give them more (do they need more, or just more of me?)?
Am I doing all I can to be kind? To be generous with my gifts and time?
Am I toiling over living the dream or living for today, because I'm not promised a tomorrow?
Am I wasting time on things that won't matter in a month, a year, five years?
Am I procrastinating when I should be facing fears and defeating the "giants" in my life instead of settling?
I had no intention of this being a morbid post. Please receive it as a gentle whisper to be you. You were uniquely created, don't let the battle scars of life, or the comparison game, or the regrets mold you into someone you weren't meant to be.
Be a blessing.
Honor one another.