And It's A Great Day To Be Alive....

I wrote this post last week, but with school and soccer and and spending all weekend at the Women of Joy conference, it's just now making its way to you!!

Life is so, so fragile.

I was reminded of that truth twice this week.

Early Sunday morning the news broke that a young pro baseball player named Jose Fernandez had died in a tragic boating accident. 

I never met this person and frankly, I had not even heard of him. But his sudden passing affected my husband, and he mentioned on the way to church how unreal it was. So young, so talented, and, in Justin's mind, such a zest for baseball. And now he is gone from this earth. 

"He wasn't in it for the money," Justin explained. "He really loved the game--got excited about it. That's what I liked about him."

It's queer how death can sneak up and take us by surprise. Especially the death of someone famous, whom we've never met. (My mom still tears up over Princess Diana--true story.)

Earlier this week, we said good bye to our family pet. Our cat, Max, who was with our family for 12 years, passed away suddenly, albeit tragically. He was our first "baby"--before we had children, we had Max, and we poured our love and affection on him in all the usual, normal ways....we took lots of pictures of him and sent them to friends and family, he got the best the veterinarian had to offer and all the best food and treats and toys. At one time he was even on "kitty Prozac"...seriously, what could he have been depressed about? Not enough catnip in his scratching post?

It was a sad day, saying goodbye but not wanting to. I cried through the morning. Lucas saw, but didn't know why. We told the boys that evening and had a funeral and thanked God for letting us know and love Max. Lucas said over and over that evening, "I'm just so sad Max is buried."

I was curiously sad all day. Not that I wouldn't be upset--he was our beloved Max--but the depths of my sadness and mourning perplexed me. That I would feel this over an animal--even one as loved as Max--put a cold, ugly reality in my head. At any moment, any of *us* can be here and then gone. If I'm truly honest, even though I want to live each day as if it were my last, I don't really want it to be my last. I want to see my children grow and spend my golden years by Justin's side. I want more parties and graduations and I want to see my boys watch their brides walk down the aisle. I want more nieces and nephews and...I want...more. And yet more is not promised to me, to any of us. 

Far from certain, my future on this earth is a mystery to me. But I have an amazing promise of an eternal future that *is* certain. It's a choice I made that I can't make for my children--they have to do it on their own. 

"How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed."

Throughout the week, I've heard news reports about the night Jose Fernandez lost his life. I've read stories about the friends that warned him about taking a boat out in the late night hours. I've looked at the spot on our floor next to my grandma's old hutch where Max liked to sleep in his last few weeks, and I feel a twinge of sadness that he won't be in our day-to --day life any more. 

But mostly, I've been searching for what God wants me to see in all of this. Every now and then, we all need reminders that tomorrow is not promised. We need that nudge from our comfortable days of 'what's for lunch' and commutes and coffee and Netflix to the eye-opening revelation that every second is precious. I know how this sounds. Moms are all too familiar with the "cherish every moment" preaching advice. It's been done--I get it!!

I used to get frustrated when I heard people say "cherish every moment". Please, how realistic is that? Whom, pray tell, could *cherish the moment* when their child is in the middle of a meltdown? Or they've been thrown up on for the umpteenth time that day...and it's not even dawn...and there hasn't even been coffee. As if!

But...what began as grieving in my heart gave way to the soft whisper from the Spirit reminding me that allowing myself to cherish every moment doesn't mean I have to enjoy those rough moments. I don't have to pretend that those aren't the difficult parts of my days. But if my heart is remembering that for every tough, gut-wrenching, excruciating moment, there are a thousand beautiful, sweet ones mixed in that I would be devastated to miss, then I can stay calm in the hard ones. I can speak gently, keeping my wits about me and not make the moment we're going through that much harder. 

Drink in this day, my friends. Drink in the wonder of your children's voices. Soak up the conversation with your parents, your sisters and brothers, your husband or wife. 

And maybe give the family pet a special treat tonight and some extra lovin'. 

I'm still walking down memory lane, so here are some pictures I found of our Max over the years...

This was always one of my favorites of him--taken in 2007, I thought he looked like a model kitty posing for a Christmas advertisement or something.  

Max always liked licking and wearing plastic bags--so strange.

This picture is so blurry, but look at baby Cooper with his brother Max! (Justin used to always refer to Max as his brother in those days.