Learning to die, learning to live

Birthdays are much more exciting when you're younger, aren't they? 8 going on 9, 12 going on 13, 20 going on 21... those are some milestones! And what kid doesn't love (ice cream) cake and presents?

32 going on 33? Not so much.

At some point, though I'm not sure when, it just starts feeling like another day, another year ticking by. It really makes me think of "When Harry Met Sally":

It's birthdays, holidays, and family celebrations (i.e. weddings, funerals, reunions) that make me wonder what I'm doing with my life. And I don't mean that in any kind of "whoa is me" sentimentality; I mean it in the "have I been doing enough with my life?" way...

I've been using the "Memento Mori" daily Lenten journal, which requires the user to pause and think, even if just so slightly, about mortality and life's purpose. In light of this, I can't help also thinking about Tuesdays with Morrie, which is one of my go-tos in terms of reflecting on death:

Now, I don't mean to be morbid, but it's helpful (at least for myself) to think along the lines of this: If I die today...

• will I have done the best I could and strived for sainthood?
• will I have told family and friends that I love them?
• will I have left a grudge or broken relationship unmended?
• will I have helped lessen the burdens of others, brought others to Christ, and/or lived the works of mercy?
• will I have left this world a little bit better than I found it?

Death is a hard pill to swallow; it's never easy to say goodbye to a loved one. Reminders pop up from time to time to bring our attention back to a certain person, or we want to run and tell our loved one about something that happened but we can't, or any number of things. And when it's our turn to have others say goodbye to us, the unknown can be frightening. But we have the promise of redemption, of heaven, of something better than we have ever known.

So, as we continue this Lenten season, let us pray that we live our lives each day to the fullest as a way to prepare our hearts and minds for daily deaths to self and our one day death in this life to be born into the next. Amen.

Love Lives On

"Life has to end. Love doesn't."

(The Five People You Meet in Heaven)

"Death ends a life, not a relationship." 

(Tuesdays with Morrie)

"When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone." 

(Tuesdays with Morrie)

There tends to be a theme (and quite a bit of wisdom) in Mitch Albom's novels...perhaps that's why I find myself drawn to them so much.

It's been hard not to think of his books recently in light of a few things...

First, I literally just finished re-reading The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and I pre-ordered the sequel coming out this fall. Without giving too much away, the main character, Eddie, goes to heaven and meets five people who help him look back on his life and make sense of it. It is such a great reminder of how each life affects so many other lives. (In that sense, it's similar to "It's a Wonderful Life," but I digress...)

Second, with my sister's wedding coming up (and with my graduation from grad school having just passed), it's hard to celebrate such momentous occasions without any of our grandparents who played such meaningful roles in our lives growing up. I know they would be beaming with pride and joy.

Third, after I got back from my roadtrip out west, my dad called with the news that my great aunt (Marg, the Great) had passed away. I took the news harder than I expected, and when her birthday card was returned in the mail unopened and with the words "no longer lives at this address" scrawled on the envelope, I realized that in all of the times I had gone to see her, I had taken it for granted that there would always be one more time...but there wasn't.

No one seems to like to talk about death. It's scary to think about one's own mortality or the mortality of people you love. But without recognizing that, I think we leave a lot of things unsaid, a lot of phone calls unmade, a lot of visits made grudgingly. And it seems that every time we may learn this lesson, we put it to the side, and we have to learn it all over again the next time. (At least, that's been the case for me.)

The good thing in all of this, though, is that my family is pretty good at telling stories - "Remember that time when grandma..." or "Your grandfather always said..." And so, they live on.

Love lives on.


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Sorry to seem like such a downer today - it's just something that's been on my mind. To end on a happier note, though...

My sister came to see my new school (and to help me lug some boxes of books and such up the stairs to my office)...and to make her first trip to The Original Rainbow Cone.

Later in the evening, we joined up with her fiance and some other friends to see "Waitress," which is playing downtown till Sunday. Funny and full of energy, I highly enjoyed it. (It was definitely a good call to watch the movie (non-musical) and jam out to the music (Sara Bareillis!) beforehand.)

Finally, since grad school is officially over, I have had time to stop and smell the flowers. It's good to get some breathing time before the final preparations for my sister's wedding...

Understanding Life Backwards

I just started reading a book, Cutting for Stone, and one of the quotes that stood out to me in the prologue was this:"You live life forward, but you understand it backward." In our own lives, how often do we stop and reflect on where we've come from and where we're going?...


An unexpected death, that's what it was. Many of us had no idea this school parent was even ill. This man touched so many lives in his short time on earth, and that was evident at Saturday's service, where hundreds of people gathered in the church to celebrate his life and to pay their respects. His family, kids he coached in baseball, friends of his kids, friends of him and his wife, faculty from the school, and others filled the pews. I was touched to see so many students from our school and alumni who had gone to school with this man's daughter (who is now in high school) - they came to support their friend(s).

Funerals tend to do this - they bring people together and allow all gathered to collectively pause and reflect on both the life of the person who died and their own mortality, not in a morbid way, but in a way that makes one ask, "Am I living in such a way that is for others?" and "Am I living in such a way that, at my funeral, they can say I lived a full life?" (I'm sure there are other questions we should be asking too.)

The priest gave us an image to use to help us think about our time on earth - When we are born, we have an hourglass filled with sand that gets turned over. Only God knows how much sand is in our hourglass. Some people have more, some people have less. But what we do during that time (however long or short) is up to us.

Father's image reminded me of the Mary Oliver quote that says, "Tell me, what will you do with your one wild and precious life?" Let us remember our time on earth is a gift - we don't know its length, but we can live it to the fullest to love and serve one another as well as be catalysts of joy.

Loved and Lost

When the time comes for me to say goodbye to someone or something I love very much, the first thing I think is, "Why should I love so much in the first place if it hurts so much to lose someone/something? Wouldn't life just be easier if I kept myself closed off, keeping people (and things) at a distance so as to not get hurt?"

But then, a familiar line of a song comes drifting in: "What matters most is that we loved at all..."


Today, I got a text from my mom telling me that they were putting our dog, Murphy, down at the vet, and that they would bury him in the backyard. I've spent a good deal of the afternoon in tears, it's true, but I've also chuckled in remembering some really good times we all shared with him (as well as some of the silly things he did). And, even though it hurts to know he's no longer with us, it makes me happy that we have those fun memories together.


It's true - without love, there really would be no purpose in living, no matter how hard things get sometimes. Yes, it's painful, but that's what makes relationships so sweet and so special. No one lives forever (at least not on this earth), so we need to take the opportunity to walk with and grow with those people and things that come into our lives while we can.


So, thank you, Murphy, for the 13+ years you were a part of our lives. We love you...