Craig and I have been reflecting (yeah, there’s still enough brain cells to do that—just barely, but enough) on various issues lately, and one of them is the last time you get to do something that you thoroughly enjoy. See, the problem is this: Rarely do you realize it’s the last time.
One of our favorite summer habits was to stay in the Rockies for a couple weeks, hiking one day and biking the next, luxuriating in the glorious scenery, gorgeous blue skies, our ability to exercise at that level, and maybe most of all, simply each other’s company—with various Labrador retrievers along for comic relief, of course. Our absolute favorite hikes were Crystal Lakes and McCullough Gulch. Each was challenging physically in its own way, but they both provided amazing pay-offs: A phenomenal view, pristine lake(s) at the top, complete quiet (except for the occasional jet flying overhead or the tweet of a bird), and the satisfaction of making it to the top.
We can’t do those hikes any longer, and the last time we did? We had no idea…absolutely no comprehension that it would be the last time. Honestly, as much as we enjoyed those achievements, I don’t know if the understanding that they would be the last times would’ve meant we’d done anything hugely different. Probably not? But I do wish we’d taken the opportunity to expressly say to God, “Thank you for the privilege of doing this, being here. If we can’t ever do this again, please know how much this has meant to us.” And I wish I’d looked over my shoulder as we rounded the bend and began the descent…for just one more look. One last time to fill my eyes with the utter beauty of those places.
As we age and look to the possibility of our future days, months, years together…this is what we are taking from this: We have no idea if today’s joys—whatever those may be—might be the last time we do something. The last kiss, maybe? Our last walk when we share our hearts, vulnerably, honestly with each other, as best friends. We’re going snorkeling this year because we don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to do that. How simple my prayers are getting these days in that I’m asking, “God, please just help me get in and out of the boat!” Will this be our last time to snorkel, eyes wide in wonder as we look at the vibrant colors of the fish and creative critters that God’s created? To marvel at the sun’s rays sparkling on those aqua waters, glinting like a billion diamonds on the amazing blue?
This is my challenge to you: Craig and I have become aware of this because of our age, and the very real reminders that time here on earth is winding down for us. But what guarantees do any of us have? Could this be your last year to do something you thoroughly enjoy? Your last opportunity to do what’s most important—spend time deepening relationships with those who matter the most to you? Could today be your last day to appreciate blessings that God’s given to you?
It just could indeed be….the last time.