"If I Should Die Before I Wake..."

Can we agree this is the most unsettling couplet ever taught to children and the worst possible way to send a child off to Dreamland? Who knows, maybe it was written for a braver generation of children not terrified by the possibility of not waking up in the morning, but I spent many of my 4-year old nights clutching my Sesame Street blanket and struggling in vain to stay awake so as not to be surprised by Death's cold hand.

I hope this "prayer" has gone the way of purple corduroy slacks and candy cigarettes, but despite his lack of exposure to  "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep," my son still developed an awareness of his own mortality and has already started to worry about it.

A few weeks before he turned 10, his enthusiasm for finally entering the double-digits was temporarily tempered. In a pensive moment on the way to school he said, "You know Mom, I probably only have another 80 years or so left." After I finished chuckling, I reminded him that 80 years was eight times as long as he'd lived already, and it was quite possible he'd live even longer than that. "Besides," I told him, "only God knows how long we will live. He has planned and purposed each of our days, and it's up to us to make the most of each one." And that's when it occurred to me that a little fear can sometimes be a good thing.

As Christians, we need have no fear of death, but we've also been given new life in the here and now. As recipients of this gift from a sovereign God, we should bask in the blessings from His hand and live boldly.

And yet, it's so easy to get caught up in what is comfortable and routine, to focus on our to-do lists and how we're measuring up. To plod or rush through each day, simply to tick it off and move to the next one. As someone who is task-focused and performance-driven, I have to fight against this tendency.

A few years ago, my husband and son convinced  me to spend a day hiking with them. It wasn't easy to overcome my protests of "I have too many things to do! I don't have time! It's too hot! It's too cold," and a myriad of other excuses. Eventually, I reluctantly agreed. As we reached the bottom of the trail, my eyes filled with tears as we came upon a breathtaking waterfall. As I stood there drinking in the beauty of God's creation with my two favorite people, my spirit whispered, "you almost missed this."

To the extent that it depends on us, let's not miss it. We will only have so many days to walk in the woods, laugh with our kids, sing at the top of our lungs, and feel the sand between our toes. We only have so much time to make an impact, make friends, and make a difference. Only so much time to inspire others and to be inspired. Limited time to learn, to dream, to act, and to shine. Only so many opportunities to take risks and make amends, and only so many days to share the good news of the gospel with others.

None of this should spur us to a frenzied existence or cause us to dwell on our imminent demise. However, when we ignore the reality of our mortality, it becomes easy to perpetually postpone all our life could be to a seemingly endless supply of tomorrows that may or may not be granted us. Better, I think, to recognize our time here as a gift with an expiration date, and live each day accordingly.

"However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all." -Ecclesiastes 11:8a