In the world of country music, I admit to really enjoying the music of Tim McGraw. He has a few songs especially that I like, and many that would fall into the popular category which, even if you do not listen to country music, you would probably have heard.
The lyrics of his popular song Live Like You Were Dying are ones which resonate strongly with me today. So they come to mind and cause me to pause.
He was singing of a man who had learned bad news of medical health, and he asked the guy -"what did you do when you got the news"... the lyrics are as such:
I went skydiving, I went Rocky Mountain Climbing, I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu. And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying... Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying.
....I was the finally the husband that most of the time I wasn't, And I became a friend a friend would like to have....
I am pondering this today because this afternoon I sat in the funeral of a friend from some years ago. He was 43 years old and one day he was fishing with his 2 teenage boys in Wyoming and the next day on a hike, he lost his life.
I have lost people close to me which shifted my world dramatically, but Josh's death had an impact on me in a new way that is hard to explain, and the only way I sometimes know how to work that out is to write it out.
On one hand, I don't want to make Josh's death (or life) turn into a story about me. However, I think that any time we walk through moments such as these, it is necessary and important to evaluate life. I thought about my kids as I listened to his 14 year old daughter speak about how she'd give anything to tap her dad on the shoulder again and say "Dad... dad... "
I thought about all the variety of people in my life who I have every day encounters with and I wonder if my faith, my friendliness and/or my words would matter or make a difference to those people.
I thought about my friends in Colombia and Footprints with Hope and how I want to make impacts in that way, such as what was spoken about the things Josh did to impact certain ministries as well.
I thought about living life to the fullest. Every year I set out by choosing a word to define the year and how I want to live. The word isn't magical nor is it what I think about every day, but I have seen the effects of choosing such a word each year. Coincidentally (?) my word for this year is Live Abundantly.
Now, COVID-19 has made that more of a challenge than January 1 ever knew it would be. But when I think about life and sat in the presence of the story of a 43 year old, healthy man, I realize and think about how living abundantly is so very important.
Love deeper.
Laugh more.
Be vulnerable.
Hug my kids.
Be thankful.
Take risks.
Step out of my comfort zone.
Slow down (sometimes)
Don't stop learning/growing.
Take in the moment every single day.
Cherish those around me, even if there are moments they drive me nuts, I can learn from those times, too.
When Tim McGraw says in his song "someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying." That chance is today, because we never know when we won't have a tomorrow. So I ask myself, what am I doing to live like I were dying, to love more, to laugh harder, to be present, to listen better, to live my faith deeper, to be a better version of me every day?
Death is hard. It is sad. I walked through a lot of these questions when mom died in 2011, and as I had a friend who lost a spouse this year, walked through them again to an extent. And today, celebrating the life of Josh, I think about them in a new way since he was only 43. If you're reading this, chances are you know me, because I am not a world-famous blogger with hundreds of followers. This is more of an open book to my ever-wandering mind through life experiences. You have likely played a part in my journey in some way, shape or form. Thank you for that. I am grateful for you.
To all my readers, I encourage you (as I preach to myself in this moment) to live like you were dying. I want to shine my light, be brighter and bolder. I want to love fiercely and wildly and unconditionally. I hope to leave an impact not so people will remember me, but so the world can be a better place and know more of God's love. I hope for my kids to have beautiful memories and silly stories to tell. I hope that I would be able to say I lived life abundantly. I am 38 years old as of recently, with a new year ahead of me. I don't want to look back and dwell in that, but I look forward instead, and embrace the idea that we get one life, one chance, one opportunity. What will I do with mine?
One day at a time. As if it were my last day. Because we truly never know when that will be.
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