If I had known it was the last time I’d see you, I would have whispered a blessing in your ear as we hugged.

If I had known it was the last time I’d see you, I would have been more courageous with my words - the kinds of words that let you know you’d been seen and heard. You tenderly cared for your wife as her health declined. I saw your grief and anguish as you tried to come to terms with the reality that she’d soon be departing this earth.

If I had known it was the last time I’d see you, I would have offered to play the second game of crib. Playing crib with you reminded me of the days I used to play with my grandpa, who’s been gone a long time now. He had such quirky sayings, just like you. Your invitation to play and the joy you found when I beat you by two points is a gift.

I’d I had known it was the last time I’d see you, I’d have lingered a little longer. Talked a little longer. Laughed a little longer. Sat in silence a little longer.

Friends, sometimes we don’t know the day that things will radically change, never to be the same. We must have a sense of our limited days.

“Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.” (Psalm 39:4, NIV)

And then, with a deep awareness of just how fleeting our life, let us live with purpose and intentionality, loving deeply. Let us become attentive to the sacred moments in ordinary days, to the movements of God in our midst.

Let’s not put off saying what’s important to say or doing what’s meaningful to do. We are not guaranteed tomorrow and that someday you’re holding out for may never come.

Live today,

Carmen