Not really. Well, maybe.
Actually, let me just say,
But is He coming tomorrow, as fringe “believers” have predicted? Most likely not. God doesn’t really adhere to human schedules or man-made mathematical schemes imposed on Scripture to calculate Jesus’ return. And even if He did, would we be left behind simply because we disagreed on the day and the hour? No.
Even so, I find it fascinating to listen to radio hosts discuss
what they would do with their last days on earth, and read about friends on Facebook planning a rapture party, and seeing tweets
about what people would do if the world were to end tomorrow. What would
we do if we knew the end was coming?
All week I’ve been meaning to write a post for you folks, but the words have been halting, at times snarky and depressed, and other times the words have flown freely into a form that I love, but that I think might best be reserved for a time when they aren’t so stinging and sad. Have you ever struggled with that, friends? You write down a good story – a true story – and then realize that if anyone reads it, no matter how well written, it could cause more pain than it’s worth?
I realize that many writers don’t trouble themselves with this. After all, it’s the truth. But deep within me, the part of me that is more than a writer, but a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, a niece, a wife, a friend, knows that it does indeed matter. Some subjects are better left alone. Or perhaps they are better saved for another space and time, like a novel that critics and historians may suspect to be partially auto-biographical, but the writer has no comment on the matter, or maybe left behind in a journal that the writer hopes no one will ever do the dishonor of reading, even in death.
Maybe I should invest in invisible ink.
I could just leave those thoughts in my head, but they take up a lot of room.
I am often caught up in what I should be saying, but I think that it’s also important and all too often overlooked to decide what should be left unsaid. I’ve reached the end of this week, having left the pieces I wrote unpublished. And let me tell you, as hard as it was to decide to leave it alone, I’m thankful I did. I’ve left tomorrow unencumbered by an irreversible choice.
And so, the only thing I have left to say at the end of a long week and the day before what probably isn’t the end of the world, is live your life with intention.
I have this terrible habit of skipping to the end of my books and reading the last pages. It’s a control issue and my shrink and I are working through it….
Really, though. It’s incredibly frustrating that I can’t live life that way. Just a sneak peak would be really helpful when I have absolutely no sense of how to handle life. But since I can’t I am learning that to live with the not knowing, to be at peace with the yet unportrayed ending, means that I am forced to live within the moment I’m given. I have to choose my words and actions with intention.
No one knows how and when and where their life is going to end – we each comprehend this in our own sense. Maybe your parent has a terminal illness or your best friend died in an accident or you just lost your grandparent or you’re fighting for your own life. In any case, take time to enjoy this moment, when you’re here and capable of intentionally loving and living your life.
Have a good weekend, friends.