The other day when I was walking back from the gym, I saw two girls racing around the neighbourhood on bikes. I smiled, remembering past summers of chalk houses and bikes with fancy bells.
One little girl, on a pink bike closed her eyes. “This means I’m practically relaxing on my bike,” she told her friend proudly.
Her friend, who was on a floral pink bike, tried it. She shrieked, finding it difficult to keep her balance on the bike with her eyes closed.
Suddenly, I heard a car coming up behind them. I turned instantly, hoping the girls were off the road.
“Jenna, that car could have runned you over!” the friend on the floral bike called as Jenna, who had been closing her eyes still, crossed the street, eyes now wide open, right in front of the car that could have killed them both.
I breathed a sigh of relief that they were alright. But it reminded me that life is so short. Perhaps we may live 60 or 70 or 80 years, but those will go by quickly and never seem long enough. Or maybe we’ll die young and people will say it was “long before our time.” Regardless, we seem to go quickly and suddenly, when our eyes are closed but our feet are pedaling quickly.
Last week, I had a dream about someone I hadn’t seen in years. She was an acquaintance friend and sort of a fixture at church events. But she passed away before our first year of highschool had finished. In my dream, I was at her memorial again. And I remembered that life sometimes doesn’t end when we think it will.
On my birthday this year, I got three envelopes all in one day. They were from a grandpa, a grandpa, and a grandma. It wasn’t until later that I realized that all my birthday cards from grandparents had coincidentally come on one day. It’s been two years and the grief has mellowed, but sometimes I still can’t get used to the fact that my other grandma is gone from this earth forever.
Amongst all this death and scares of death, the most paining thing of all was a comment from a relative. We were talking about death. He made it seem as if it is better for anyone to die because “there is nothing after earth.” Nothing. Nothing at all. I wanted to disagree. I wanted to give him the hope of heaven, but I didn’t know how to tell him about the horrors of hell. I didn’t feel qualified and so I left it. It reminded me that life is not only short, but we must be prepared for whatever end we take.
Eternity is a long time. Much longer than any of us could imagine. I invite you to spend yours with Jesus for He is the only way to healing after death.