The Saturday Journal: I want to finish out my life...
- tathelmillerwriter
- Mar 1
- 4 min read
The Bradford pear tree outside my window sits naked and dry–but it’s very much alive. And on this day the branches are full of these red cardinals draped in scarlet hues and the deepest of black blotches of color. The cardinals are too many to count. Snowflakes dance and twirl–falling from the sky. I wonder if manna from heaven fell in the same way feeding the children of Israel in the wilderness. Carefree–as if God cupped His hands together–filled with angel food– and then breathed a whisper and the sweetness of these tiny wafers gently fell to the earth.
And the wind shouts–March is near.
March was the month my Daddy left this world for heaven–eleven years ago and it still seems hard to grasp–on some days. And me, I celebrated a birthday in December and now I am within the single digits from the age my Daddy was when he crossed over. Single digits–eight years to be exact.
And our minds can spiral–eight years–eight years. And I know we are not supposed to dwell on tomorrow–worry about it–and I’m not. But if we are being truthful with ourselves, the older we get–it’s natural to wonder, how much time. No, we aren’t promised tomorrow–only the breath we are breathing right now at this moment–one breath is all we have.
So why can't that one breath be all we need--to trust--to live
I heard a story this week about a man and his wife going on a two-month pilgrimage–hiking a trail in Spain. He’s in search of peace–answers for his tomorrows. And this is what he said, ‘I feel like something is missing. But I do know this, I want to finish out my life in a way that is full of love and compassion and kindness.’
And I hit the pause button hard–rewound the broadcast to hear it again. I rushed to find scrap paper–scribble it down. ‘I want to finish out my life in a way that is full of love and compassion and kindness.’
She boldly volunteered to pray before the meal. And as soon as she spoke–the windows of heaven opened and it was as if she was sitting at Jesus’ feet--having a conversation with Him and those there--we all were given grace enough to sit at the same table. The prayer was nothing like I have ever heard–humble--sincere--real--selfless. And this one thing she prayed, I was undone–the words–the earnest plea–’God, if you need to take any of my miracles, my blessings, and give them to someone else who needs them, then you take them.’
This woman lives no easy life–she has her struggles and hardships, as I am told. And here she was asking God–take some of what you give me, and give to someone else–if you need to.
There’s a young man–he often visits my church and on this Sabbath, the man of God standing in the pulpit reads Philippians 3:13-14, Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before. I press toward the mark for the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.
And the young man nods his head--in agreeance.
Pressing on–marching on.
And this young man's silent amens–his unspoken keeps coming.
We never know when our silence can be someone’s else's spoken hallelujahs.
And I think back to his statement–the man going on this pilgrimage–I want to finish out my life in a way that is full of love and compassion and kindness. An affirmation that quickly turns back to me as a question–How is it I want to finish out my life–whether it be in multiple or single digit years–months--days–minutes...
The month of March--the "in between' month--winter and spring playing this game--no me, no me. March is here and I heard a wise woman saying just the other day, if you see a red-winged blackbird in your yard--that's a sure sign spring is coming. I saw one today, along with daffodils bursting out of the ground--they couldn't wait another minute.
How is it I want to finish out my life…
Hearing this woman’s prayer–witnessing the young man’s silent hallelujahs–a wife watching as her husband puts on his much needed new boots--bought by a stranger, that quickly became their friend– my granddaughter, all of four years old saying I love you more–holding hands with an elderly lady–her eyesight fading, but that doesn’t hinder her beautiful smile as she shares how proud she is of her granddaughter--sitting in an old small country church full of people whose smiles and kindness radiate the love of Jesus...
How is it I want to finish out my life…
More moments like these, Lord. I pray, more moments like these.
The Lord has done great things for us; whereof we are glad.
Psalm 126:3
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I read once that the dates on our tombstone don’t mean as much as the dash, birth - date of death. It is what happens in the years between. I hope to run a good race.