If We Only Had Today

I was thinking yesterday about what I would do if I ever received the devastating news that I only had hours to live. What would I choose to do with that precious time? Who would I call, who would I see? What items on my "someday" list could I accomplish?

I would call my parents and my grandmother, I decided, and thank them for all they have done for me. I would tell them that I never understood how much they loved me until I had children of my own.

I would call my closest friends and laugh about silly times we'd had together. I would let them know that their friendship kept me going on days when I wanted to lay down.

I would take my family and do something that none of us had done before. Something we had always put off, thinking we had years to accomplish it.

I would make sure that every member of my family sat down to dinner at the same time. I would listen to each of my children's prayers, and echo them as my own. I wouldn't get frustrated if someone spilled their milk, or if the phone rang three times, or if someone didn't want to eat the mashed potatoes.

At the close of the day, I would take time to tuck each child into bed in a special way. I would hug them and pray with them before kissing their little foreheads. I would let them know that their mommy loved them very, very much.

And finally, before I closed my eyes, I would curl up in the arms of my husband. Those things that had seemed so important to argue about in the previous days would no longer matter. I would make sure that before we slept, he knew how thankful I was that God had blessed us in marriage.

What would you do if you only had a twelve hours left? Who would you touch? What unfinished things would you complete? How would your attitude about life change?

As I sorted through my thoughts, I suddenly realized what I think God was trying to teach me. Because I don't have a terminal illness, and I haven't been told that today is my last earthbound day.

But I only have this day one time. And no matter how I feel or what my plans are, I am not guaranteed another day.

"Now listen, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.' Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." (James 4:13-14)

It probably isn't possible to truly live every day as if it were our last. But we can make sure that we do our best to be able to say at the end of the night when we close our eyes to sleep, "If the Lord sees fit to take me now, I leave with no regrets."

It will all have been said. It will all have been done. And those who love us will be able to say, "She was ready."