On a beautiful summer day in 1986, just one year after my husband and I married, My Dear Daddy was killed in an accident. He went to work one day and never came home. He had planned to go fishing the next day, but Death doesn’t like to wait.
Ever since that day, I have been acutely aware of how precious and fragile Life is. How quickly Life can become Death. I guess that is why whenever the phone rings late at night, I brace myself and expect to hear the worst from a loved one.
Whenever one of my children gets a high fever, as two of them have this week, or shoves a bead up her nose, or is rushed to the emergency room with a gangrenous appendix, I silently wonder if that day will be the day my Lord has ordained long ago to bring one of my sweet babies home.
As MaddieLynn lay in her hospital bed, all lean and gangly, caught in the world between a girl child and a woman, I stroked her forehead while she slept. I thought of the thirteen years her daddy and I have loved her, even before she was born. I thought about what it would have been like if we had lived in a different time and she had had this same ailment. We would have been mourning over a freshly dug grave.
Each day we have is a gift and we are never guaranteed another. In the day-in-day-out routines and trials of life, I try to remember that this day could be the last any one of us have. Each kiss, hug, or snuggle could be the last one I get to give any one of my children.
Have you tickled your toddler’s toes today? Have you looked deep into the dark brown eyes of your six year old and soaked them up with a smile? Have you listened, I mean really listened to your son’s plans for catching a squirrel?
I thank God for each day he has given me to enjoy the blessings he has so generously bestowed upon me. Life is slippery sometimes, and Death comes sure and swift. Let us all remember to make the most of the time God has given us.