On Tuesday a friend’s grandfather went in for triple bypass surgery. Another friend’s grandmother slipped into eternity while she took a nap. On Thursday a dear ballet teacher underwent surgery to remove a brain tumor.
Life is fragile. Time is short.
These thoughts were crossing my mind as an ambulance passed through the intersection, siren blaring. I blinked back tears as I read Angels Neonatal Transport on the side.
Life is fragile. Time is short.
I don’t realize this enough. Conviction grips my heart. I don’t want to these friends to spend eternity without Jesus. Yet how many times did I stay silent because “she’s entitled to her opinion”? How many times did I avoid asking the hard questions? How many times was I afraid of what he would think?
Life is fragile. Time is short.
“We always think we have more time that we do,” my friend says. True. Our days are numbered. My days. Your days. These minutes of interaction are not unlimited. Yet how many times do I put a conversation off because “the time isn’t right”?
Life is fragile. Time is short.
This Earth is not the end. In a twinkling our souls will not be bound by time and space. Perhaps living in the moment is realizing the urgency of eternity. Being attentive to the Moment Giver that we might tactfully yet boldly leverage these ticks of the second hand for His glory. Jesus, let it be so.
Rebekah Diaddigo 