You know, as a nurse, I see all kinds of things. People bouncing back from the brink of death like it’s no big deal, or sometimes life just pulling the rug out from under someone. Tonight, I had one of those “life is fragile” moments that made me want to do better.
I walked into a patient’s room—a 30-year-old guy who thought his occasional back pain was just a part of adulting. (I mean, isn’t it? Don’t we all get those “Oops, I sneezed wrong and now I’m injured” moments?) Turns out, it wasn’t just back pain. Nope. My guy has multiple myeloma, and palliative care just joined the chat. Sobering, right? Like, one minute you’re popping Tylenol, and the next, life’s holding up a neon sign saying, “YOLO, but seriously, though.”
It got me thinking: why do we act like we have a lifetime to get things done? Why do I say “I’ll do it tomorrow” when I could do it, I don’t know… now? Maybe I don’t need to wait until next year to visit my parents. Maybe I should put my phone down and look my husband in the eye (remember him?). And let’s not forget my daughter, God’s cutest little wake-up call. She’s over there handing me toys and joy, and I’m scrolling Amazon reviews like my life depends on it.
If I say I’m going to write 250 words a day, why does it take an existential crisis to make me do it? I mean, I have 24 hours in a day—surely I can squeeze that in between snacks, work, and telling my toddler, “No, you can’t eat the remote.”
Here’s the thing: I have good health, a loving family, a roof over my head, and hope for tomorrow. If that’s not a solid foundation for gratitude, I don’t know what is. So tonight, my prayer is this:
“Lord, help me number my days. Help me do everything with all my might—whether it’s chasing my purpose or chasing my toddler across the yard. Teach me to live joyfully, gratefully, and fully awake to this life You’ve blessed me with.”
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my parents, kiss my husband, and probably wrestle my daughter for the remote. Life’s too short to postpone what matters most!
4o