It's been a good two years since I messed around with this blog, and to be honest, the main reason I stopped was I lost my premise. This blog was originally created to reflect on my experiences teaching in Bangkok, which I rarely found time to actually do, and once that ended, I didn't see the need. A lot has changed in the last two years: I'm married, I live in Colorado, and I teach eighth grade English at a charter school. So, what's changed? What makes a person take to writing down her thoughts after two years of not bothering?
Death. That big smack in the face that you never see coming even when you know you should be prepared for it. Yesterday, I learned that my younger brother's best friend had passed away. It wasn't just that Jesse was 24 or 25 years old and seemed to have a whole life ahead of him. It wasn't just that he's been my brother's best friend since kindergarten, and I can't imagine what it would be like to lose someone who's been such a huge part of my life for so long. The thing that struck me about Jesse's death was everyone's reaction to it: That he was in heaven, pain-free, and that his short life could easily be characterized as loving God and loving people.
In many ways, the loss of Jesse reminds me of the loss of my friend Kandice three years ago. Both of them were known as joyful God-lovers, and even in death, they have touched people's lives in so many ways. And both of them knew they might not have long in this world. In the last twelve hours or so, I've found myself looking at my own life and wondering if people would be able to describe me in the same way as Jesse or Kandice, and I come to the conclusion that no, that wouldn't be what they'd say. Why not? Because I don't live like I'm dying.
Talking with my dad last night, I realized it's pretty stupid that most of us don't live that way, since we're all going to die sooner or later, and usually there aren't any clues beforehand. In some ways, it might be nice to know when, because then we could shape up and start living the way we should've been all along. Anything could happen today, and what if I never became the kind, loving person I wanted to be? There's a country song that describes that effect: A man who finds out he's dying starts going on adventures and, more importantly, "loved deeper" and "spoke sweeter." The chorus ends with him saying, "Some day I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying." And that's really it, isn't it? If we knew that the end was soon, wouldn't we choose to just love people and let things go rather than get angry and fight?
Granted, as a Christian, I don't believe the end of this life is the end. I know that my friends are in heaven and happy. However, I do believe that our lives here on earth are our opportunities to make a difference and help others. As a teacher, I think that too often I fall back on my occupation as my "good deed for the day", so to speak. I let myself get angry and snap at people because "I help kids, so I must be doing good most of the time." But that perspective, in light of eternity, is ridiculous.
The point of my writing that we would all do better to live like we're dying isn't to depress people. It's not the dying I want to emphasize but the living. Jesse and Kandice inspired me because of how they lived before they passed away. In the face of death, which would make most people turn bitter, they chose to keep loving God and loving people in words and in actions. The best way, then, to honor their memories is to continue to live as they did, like every moment counts, because however long it takes, we are all dying.
"Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." - 1 Corinthians 9:26-27.
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