I’ve lost my three remaining grandparents this year- and it’s only May.
My maternal grandmother in January.
My paternal grandfather in February (my grandmother passed away when I was in ten).
My maternal grandfather last week (May 7th).
My parents are now the oldest living generation in my family. And that seems weird.
Because I’m not that far behind anymore.
I always knew this time would come. It’s inevitable. Aging is part of life.
There’s a hundred percent death rate.
But staring it in the face again and again is just another reminder of its reality.
Facing death isn’t fun nor is it easy, but it has a way of sharpening me, making me more determined than ever to live life well. To not shrink back in fear. To not waste time. But to use each and every opportunity given to me for something meaningful. Something that matters.
A generation is gone.
A new generation is being born.
Time is just the ticking of the clock.
But with the passing of one and the entrance of another what is being done in between makes all the difference.
I hope that during my time I can be used to influence.
To influence for good.
To influence for what’s right.
To influence for eternity.
To influence for Christ.
In Robert D. Smith’s new book, 20,000 Days and Counting, he says, “The best preparation for living well is to be prepared to die at any time”. If someone were to tell us we had a week to live, what would we do differently? Why not live every day like that?