Mortality...

Something most of us don’t really care to think about too often, but it is quite real and sometimes has to smack us square in the face as a reminder of just how real it is.

Unfortunately, this week has seen me get smacked not once, but twice, and HARD.

I generally view life and it’s quirkiness as a series of small events, both good and bad, that helps to prepare and train you for the “big ones”, or bigger events. This perspective has helped me quite a few times to not feel miserable when little things have gone wrong but rather to look with a sense of anticipation of what might be coming next.  While seldom easy, those times are far more manageable when viewed from that particular vantage point.

This past Monday morning, my sister Doris emailed to say that a classmate of ours had died in his sleep the previous Saturday night.  Being only 42 years old, this struck a nerve that I wasn’t even aware that I possessed. 

My friend, Al Chidester, had an undiagnosed heart ailment that caught us all by surprise a week ago.  I call him my friend even though roughly 19 years has passed since I’ve last seen/spoke to him.  Lesley and I were married less than a year at that point when we went to see a band, Hanover Fist, play at The Rush in Waterloo one Saturday night.  Al was there with Jordan (his younger brother) and a friend, Jason, I believe.  When he realized it was me, he got the smile that only Al could muster and exclaimed my name. 

Anybody can say your name… only friends can EXCLAIM it, and Al did!

We had a brief catching up and that was it.  Lesley and I went back to our table to jam torn off pieces of napkin in our ears as that band was LOUD! 

That was the last time I ever saw Al or had the chance to speak with him.  The last time I will see his smile. The last time I will hear his voice exclaim my name. He’s now gone. It’s final. It is done. 

While in China adopting our boy Caleb, we met many couples/families, all of us there for the same reason.  All of the families there shared a similar heart and that point was obvious every morning in the hotel seeing 50 or so families with little adopted kiddos sharing stories. 

One of those couples we met had been in the adoption process for 7 years.  They were finally getting the little girl that they had been dreaming about.  While we did not get to know them closely, we did get to share a bit of their story and share a few experiences with them while there.

We got news this morning that the Momma went into cardiac arrest last Sunday and is in a permanent coma. She will never recover. She will never again get to hold the little girl who was 7 years in the making.  She will never get to hug or kiss her husband again.  She never gets to tell anyone again that she loves them, much less the much cherished chance to tell them goodbye.  It’s final. It is done.

Tonight’s sermon in church, Pastor Dave was speaking of the table being set.  The table that points to heaven.  He spoke of mortality and it being not the end of our lives, but the beginning of our lives in the presence of God.

Jesus set the table for us and He has invited us to the banquet.  Do we accept the invitation while we have the chance?  Do we rejoice with the opportunity put before us to die a little to live a lot?

It's a question we all have to answer for ourselves. If you haven't answered that question yet, please think about it while you have the opportunity. 

God bless all of you. 

With a heart full of sadness, and yet a certain joy, I say good night.