I don’t want to write this–but I can’t get it off my mind …
We are not looking forward to tomorrow, and it will not be a normal Saturday. We won’t be concentrating on college football, even though there are some huge games. We probably won’t pay attention to the wonderful autumn leaves we have been enjoying so much this fall. I don’t think we will even talk very much on the three-hour car ride to Atlanta.
I don’t want to write this–but neither can I ignore the significance of tomorrow …
I should probably try and come up with some deep or profound words of wisdom about what all of this means. They say that we learn and grow the most during the tough times. But I don’t feel like learning and growing right now. I feel like not thinking about it.
I don’t want to write this–but I feel compelled to say something …
It doesn’t seem right to offer philosophical commentary about feelings that are mostly raw emotion. I don’t want to fake it, or act like I understand what is going on. I wouldn’t feel right trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense, not in our limited human understanding.
Our older son will be a pall bearer tomorrow.
One of his best friends, Hunter, died last week in a car accident at the age of 23. My wife talked to his parents, Kathy and Bruce, a few days ago, her phone call catching them as they struggled to write an obituary for their son, a task no parent should ever have to face.
What do you say when words don’t fit? I’m not sure, but I feel I only have the right to say the things I know to be true …
I know that Hunter, my son, and their friends could be as delightfully funny and goofy as only teenage boys can be, but that Hunter was also deeper than most boys his age. He had a zest for life, and he lived with a sense of passion. Mostly, he had a big heart, and he touched many people’s lives. My son felt close to Hunter, and that’s good enough for me.
I also know that God is good, and that he is in control of all things. I trust that to be true with all my heart. I know we have a God of love and compassion and grace and mercy.
My mind cannot rationalize why Hunter died too soon. And I don’t feel qualified to try and explain something I don’t understand, or somehow discern meaning from his death.
So, to honor Hunter, I’ll talk instead about life:
Life is a journey that you take one step at a time.
Love God, and know that God loves you.
Make the lives of other people better.
Live with purpose and meaning.
Be thankful, and enjoy each day.
Because life is short. Sometimes, far, far too short.
What would you do differently if you found out you only had a short time left to live?
Action: Pick one thing you will change to live with more love, meaning, and purpose.