I’m sitting at Starbucks on a drizzly early morning. Normally, I’m at Caribou Coffee but nothing seems normal this morning. Why? Because my mind is connecting in strange ways today. You see, when my oldest daughter was killed a few years back she was 18 years and 1 month old. Too young to die. Too energetic to have life cut short.
But back to my madness. Today, my son is … you guessed it … 18 years and 1 month old. I know. You may think it’s a strange weaving – her timeline with his. But that is how a person’s mind works when you lose a child.
In all of this, it reminds me again that our days are numbered, that our time is short, no matter if it’s 18 or 88 years. And that the measuring of our prosperity is in our connection with God and the positive impact we have on others.
So today, as the clouds roll in and out, as the drizzle collects on the lawn and the world slows down, I will lean into the Lord and thank Him for the short years that He gives us all.