The days of our lives...

A friend's dad died last week. My friend knows his dad is no longer in pain...and knows that he knew God. I watched my friend walk through the week with peace and grace--he encouraged ME when I went to be an encouragement to him and his mom. He comforted his children, smiled as friends reminisced, cared for his mom...and I never saw him falter.

And yet, there's enormous loss. The family is left with the task of rearranging their lives to compensate for what's gone...you don't just move the furniture around and hope to cover up the gaping husband/dad/grandfather hole. How do you move in the face of that reality? How do you listen to idle gossip and random chitchat? How, sometimes, do you even breathe?

"Like sands through the hourglass...so are the days of our lives." I grew up hearing that line from my mom's favorite soap opera. I've been hearing MacDonald Carey's voice echoing in my head all week. The days...they're just trickling away, hour by hour, grain of sand by grain of sand. And what do we do with those days? With those hours? With those minutes? With the relationships we're handed? How cognizant are we that life is truly just a vapor, a breath...and then it's gone? Do we really value relationships, especially those with our families, like we should?

I sat next to a guy in church Sunday morning who had all 5 of his kids with him. On Mother's Day. He's an outstanding dad...I gave him one of the little potted plants that were handed out to all of the ladies of the church, because he's a great single dad who's tackling the dual-parenting role and is doing a wonderful job. But I still wonder about the kids...as they grow older, will they wonder where Mom was on Mother's Day? And why they weren't with her? His oldest daughter is at the age where she needs a mom to advise her and guide her as she transitions from little girl to young woman...how sad that Mom is missing out on the opportunity, for whatever reason. Will she regret those missed moments someday?

I know a woman whose dad turned his back on her a few years ago...for whatever reason, he made a choice: his life would no longer include her. She's beautiful and smart and funny and talented and has her heart set on God...she's everything a daddy would want his little girl to grow up to be. And he's missing it. Will he look back on this wasted time someday and see what he's lost?

I always think about them when I hear Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Cinderella":
She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sittin' here wearin' the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy, please!"
So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all to soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone.

Maybe it's just because I'm getting older and recognized myself in the face of my friend last week--someday I'll be in his place. I don't want to regret anything. I don't want to lose even one grain of sand--I'm sure I will, but I want to be constantly reminded of how precious each one is.