This morning, I came downstairs and found my 13 yo son preparing breakfast in a kitchen that looked like a tornado had gone through. He’d made a breakfast burrito buffet line complete with tortillas, spinach, cheese, turkey, ham, and eggs. He also felt ambitious enough to make a banana bread without any assistance from me. He looked up, eager to receive praise. I gave it freely. I thanked him for getting up and cooking breakfast. I thanked him for trying the banana bread. I told him everything smelled great (because it did) and then I went back upstairs to change. As I was walking the steps I thought about how long it was going to take to clean the kitchen even after Bug’s first pass. I sighed a bit at that.
I came back downstairs, sat down and received a text from my best friend. She shared with me the news of a former classmate and friend’s passing. It hit me like a ton of bricks. She was our age. She has a daughter around the age of my oldest son. She was kind, sweet, and loving. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. Suddenly, the kitchen didn’t seem like a big deal anymore. I didn’t even mind the mess that was currently in the dining room. I knew my friend’s daughter would give anything to have her mom see her make a mess once more.
As I stared at the mess and my children preparing to eat their breakfast, I felt very strongly that I want to be here. I want to be here for my children. I know the ultimate design of life and death lies with God, but man I want to be here and see my children grow up. I want to see grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I want to be able to watch my daughters walk down the aisle on the arms of their father. I want to watch my sons waiting at the altar for their wives. I want to be here for a long time. I want to watch my babies grow. I want to sit on a porch in retirement with S. knowing that our children have grown into productive citizens.
I pray so hard that God is agreeable to that. I imagine though that my friend had the same desires. She had the same thoughts, even through her love of Christ. I feel bad for even uttering my thoughts, but they are there. Obviously, if God calls me home, I’ll go. But man, I would love to be here for much longer.
It’s amazing how your mortality speaks to you when someone your age and in similar situations as you passes. We’re not invincible. We have to leave here one day.
I just hope that one day is much further away.
Please rest well, sweetness.