The Gift of Knowing We are Going to Die
Cherishing the Fleeting Moments
It was just about bedtime. The two of us were on the couch as I read a story from her Disney Princess book, when my four-year-old let me know that she had gotten married that day. My soul began to laugh, but I didn’t let it show. This was a great opportunity for some high-level poking around. I snapped the book shut, and my eyes sprung wide.
I said, “What! Who was it?”
A giggle escaped her. I said, “Shay, who did you marry?”
Through her giggles, she managed to squeak out, “Benjamin. We got married in housekeeping” (one of her centers at preschool).
I really laid it on thick then. I said, “Benjamin! Who is Benjamin? I need to speak with this boy! Better yet, I need to speak with his mom and dad! You can’t marry him; you are my baby girl!”
She was laughing good now, dimples on full display. Then she said, “Well, we already did. And we had a baby!”
I don’t know how I kept my act going after that, but somehow I managed. Tossing the Disney Princess book in the air in an act of playful shock, I said, “YOU HAD BABIES!!!”
This went on for a bit longer before I scooped her up, saying, “Baby girl, one day you will find someone you love and who loves you, and you will get married, and I will walk you down the aisle and give you away. But it is going to be a long, long, long time from now.”
I say it will be a long time away, but I know, though the days will be long, the years will be desperately short. They already have been. I mean, goodness, she is almost five years old. It was but moments ago a 4.2-pound baby laid sleeping on my chest!
A Miraculous Journey
Regarding weddings, my wife and I attended one a few days ago. The bride was in my youth group at a previous church. When I started there, she was in middle school, and in my mind, though it has been at least a decade ago, she should still be about the same age. So, when I opened the mailbox to find a save-the-date, I shook my head in disbelief. How could she be old enough to get married?
Her father is a good friend of mine. When he began his speech at the reception, everyone present felt the weight of that moment. This is always a special moment, but in this instance, special doesn’t cover it. It was miraculous. For you to understand, you need more of the story.
Some years ago (when his daughter was truly as old as I thought she should be now), he was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma. It was a cancer diagnosis that came with about a 5% chance to live longer than 5 years. This news rattled our small community. We couldn’t believe it. Not only was he far too young, but he was also one of the healthiest and most health-conscious people I knew.
Lesson’s From a Friends Journey
So began a journey that he would have never asked for, but one that oddly he didn’t completely regret traveling. The treatments were rough, the surgeries were intense, and the future was uncertain, but in the midst of all the uncertainty, one thing became crystal clear: his priorities. I can remember two conversations we had during his fight to live. His words are etched, tattooed, and burned into my memory. They changed my life.
The first one, we were sitting in his office, and he told me that everything had become a lot simpler in his life and his priorities had become crystal clear. He told me it used to be that he spent so much time focused on things that simply do not matter to him anymore. For example, he used to check his investment accounts every day to see what the market was doing and how his portfolio was performing. He said he couldn’t remember the last time he checked because he didn’t care. He didn’t know how much time he had left, but he knew he wanted to spend it on things much more important. He wanted to spend it with his family and those he loved, doing things that mattered and helped others.
The second one, we were in a small group Bible study, and he told us something that was hard to comprehend. He said, “I am thankful for my cancer.” You may be able to imagine the confusion in the small circle. He went on to explain that even though this journey had been hard and scary and uncertain, he had been given a gift. It was a gift of knowing that he was going to die. He knew it before, of course, but had never been forced to live with the fact that it could be sooner rather than later. And with that gift, he was able to see with abundant clarity what really mattered and what did not. He was able to give his energy, focus, resources, and the time he had left to those things. The greater things in life. And in doing so, he happily and willingly sacrificed the lesser things that so often convince us to waste precious time worrying over them.
“He was able to see with abundant clarity what really mattered and what did not”
It was powerful to hear. And though I don’t know it with the same depth of understanding his experience affords him, I am thankful to have learned this lesson through his story.
The Gift of Mortality
It’s extremely odd how events line up in life. I recently started listening to an audio book called “The 6 Habits of Growth: Get Unstuck and Create the Life of Your Dreams” by Brendon Burchard. I am only partially through it, but in the introduction, the author tells part of his story. At the age of 19 he was in a bad car accident and almost died. I won’t tell his story for him (you can find the audio book here if you’d like to hear it in full*), but that incident changed his life. He referred to it as a “golden ticket” and claimed it was one of the greatest gifts he could have received. He called it “mortality motivation.” And as he explained it, it sounded a lot like what my friend was talking about. He says it is the moment when we realize that life truly is short and we make the conscious decision to make the most out of it.
As morbid as it sounds, there is great value in reminding ourselves that we will die.
That this life is temporary. That we only get this one ride, and it will come to an end one day. Hopefully, it is a long time from now, but even if we are so blessed, the longest rides seem far too short. Having that awareness can bring a since of motivation to live life to the fullest and to less and less often, sacrifice the greater things for the lesser.
Cherishing Every Moment
Well, a 5% chance to live 5 years. As of now, it has been at least 8 or 9 years, and there is currently no detectable disease in his body. So, when he walked his daughter down the aisle and was able to stand and toast her and his new son-in-law, it was much more than special. It was miraculous.
I hope and pray to God that I am there.
The day they learn to ride without the training wheels.
When they break their first bone.
When their hearts get broken for the first time.
When they walk across the stage.
When they say, “I do.”
But whether I am or not, I plan to be there in one way or another. I plan to make the most of every special moment that I do have, so that even when I am gone, my words are recalled in their minds, my laughter still vibrates in theirs ears, my tickles are felt in their souls, and my love is forever in their hearts.
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