I am reading A Step of Faith by Richard Paul Evans. It is the fourth novel in this series. The man certainly has a way with words. I just had to share the beginning with you. He wrote:
Am I dying?
It’s a stupid question, really, as we’ve all got an expiration date. I guess the real question is not if, but when.
As I was walking through the South Dakota Badlands- before I knew something was wrong with me-I had this thought: What if we all carried little timers that counted down the days of our lives? Maybe the timer’s a bit dramatic. Just the date would do. It could be tattooed on our foreheads like the expiration date on the milk bottle.
It might be a good thing. Maybe we’d stop wasting our lives worrying about things that never happen, or collecting things that we can’t take with us. We’d probably treat people better. We certainly wouldn’t be screaming at someone who had a day left. Maybe people would finally stop living like they’re immortal. Maybe we would finally learn how to live.
I’ve wondered if, perhaps, at some deep, subconscious level, we really do know our time. I’ve heard stories of people spontaneously buying life insurance or writing wills just days before an unforeseen calamity takes their lives.
Whether we know our time or not, it doesn’t change the truth-there is a clock ticking for all of us. I suppose this weighs heavily on my mind right now because my clock seems to be ticking a little more loudly lately. a brain tumor will do that to you.
I don’t know what it is, there’s just something about those words, especially the line: Maybe we’d stop wasting our lives worrying about things that never happen, or collecting things that we can’t take with us. The last part. You know, the one about the stuff.
There it is again. Why do we humans spend so much time collecting stuff that we can’t take with us? Click here and here to read previous posts about stuff.
And I have a thing about how fast time goes by. It’s crazy! Minute by minute we get older until our time is up, I suppose. And that’s crazy too, because we truly do conduct our lives as if that wasn’t true.
My sweet grandma once told me she still felt eighteen even though she was in her seventies. I really didn’t get it at the time. I do now.
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