Although I don’t consider myself a devout catholic, I do attend mass most Sunday mornings. I see the hour or so spent there as a sort of a sacred in-house inventory if you will, a pensive look into my soiled soul and the now dormant week that was.
This past Sunday, a question I’ve thought about a thousand times jumped out at me from the weekly bulletin.
It’s really quite simple:
What would you do if you knew you only had 24 hours to live?
What would you say and whom would you say it to?
In the aftermath of 9/11, I firmly believe that now more than ever, tomorrow is promised to absolutely no one.
Many victims on the ill-fated flights and the upper floors of a crumbling World Trade Center had cell phones that day and made calls to the people that mattered most to them.
Are you surprised?
I didn’t think so.
I’ve yet to listen to one of the recorded phone calls but I’ve no doubt it’s ‘heartbreaking squared’.
In my heart, I also know that every single conversation ended with three words:
I love you.
The dark acceptance of the raw reality of death makes us reach out and touch the special people that matter the most to us.
Sports cars, 80ft yachts, mansions, small islands, diamonds and all the gold ingots in the world are effortlessly rendered worthless.
Kind of cool, IMHO.
If you were told tonight you wouldn’t live to see another blazing orange creamsicle sunrise, I’m thinking there would be an undeniable clarity regarding the ultimate worth of the precious gifts (people) in your life.
Why wait until you’re backed into some abysmal corner before you take some action?
I ask everyone reading this post to call someone today (or tonight) because, to be quite honest, tomorrow is already peaking around the corner.
Do you want to take that chance?
I’m only talking about three simple words.
Can you do that for me?
I knew that you could . . .