I saw a man die yesterday. He was hit by a car in front of our apartment. The woman riding on the passenger side would have needed to step over and around him in order to get out of the car, which she did.
The firetrucks came— faster than I expected; and I saw them giving him cpr for what seemed like a really long time.
I couldn’t stop watching, even though I thought maybe I should. Maybe they needed some privacy, out there in the middle of the road. All the blood had drained from my head and I wanted to know how bad it was, and if somehow, like a tv drama, he would miraculously make it.
They covered his face. And that doesn’t happen to survivors.
I thought about how many times I had crossed that road with my kids. I wondered what it would be to be this man’s wife, for his family, and how devastating it would be if that had been MY dad, or husband, or loved one. And I wondered if that man knew God.
I thought about the driver. and his life. and his wife and what would happen to them, and to him.
God, life is fragile. Everything is so delicately interlaced in such a way that we just go— and much of the time whatever happens works for the best. But those few times when it doesn’t work, everything just crashes.
And as with most people, everyone seems to assume we have time. "Time", meaning, more time than this. Today. The here.
So for today, I am grateful. And I will live, and work, and love and paint and do and dream and make for myself and those on this adventure along side me the fullest and free-est I know how. And I pray, that for all the tomorrows that I may have, I will learn to this better and better and better, for the glory of God, and for the grace that He has given me.
I won't forget to live.