There should be a game show where the contestants are each given a clogged toilet to fix and to start the game they have to flush it and see what happens.  And they don’t know if it will overflow, and all they’ve been given is a plunger.  And the first person to get their toilet working correctly wins money.

Because I’ll tell you what that’s some stressful stuff right there.   I mean, the sh*t might not go down, but either way, the moment you push that lever some sh*t is gonna go down.

She wasn’t a relative, and I had only really met her while she was conscious once, and it was for my internship.  It was on a hospital visit.

Well, on my last visit she died.  She just died, right there in front of me.  Myself, her only son, and a couple nurses were the only ones in the room.  And I was supposed to be the son’s “spiritual guidance” in those moments.  He was a 50 year old man, his mother and last surviving parent had just died, and all he had was me.

It was the second time I’ve seen the moment when someone’s life left their body.  The first was my dad.

If this really happens, and I become a pastor, and I go on more hospital visits, that will no doubt lead to me being present for at least a couple more deaths….each and every time I will really be reliving my dad’s.

Which is both a peaceful and depressing thought.  Depressing for obvious reasons, but peaceful because…well…to paraphrase John Green: When someone dies everyone’s first complaint is that it’s not fair.  That life’s not fair.  When in reality, death is the only fair thing about life.  Because it happens to everyone.  I know it’s a cliche, but I felt connected to my dad in the way all living things past and present are connected.  Her last breath mixed into the very same atmosphere that my dad’s last breath mixed into.

Between the time my dad got sick and the time he died, I was afraid of hospitals and funeral homes, I think because they reminded me of what was going to happen.  My daddy was going to die.

But now that he’s gone I’ve found that those fears have largely left as well.  Because one of my biggest fears became a reality (as it was guaranteed to) my reality became less filled with fear.  The other Sunday I was in a nursing home room with the body of a deceased woman, and while her son was in the restroom I touched her hand.  Partly out of a sign of respect to her, partly in prayer, and partly because I never had the strength to touch my dad’s body after he died.  But I touched her hand and I didn’t fall apart.  The world didn’t crumble.

When you think about it, it’s kind of strange how some people’s lives end, while another person’s life just keeps going. 

I’m not afraid of hospitals anymore.

OH

MY

GOSH

I

FEEL

LIKE

KRISTEN WIIG’s

CHARACTER

SO MUCH

TO PROCESS

AND

I’M

HAPPY

BUT

ANXIOUS

SO ANXIOUS

echo-of-words:

“Life is so full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises. Sometimes that beauty is too much for me to handle. Do you know that feeling? When something is just too beautiful? When someone says something or writes something or plays something that moves you to the point of tears, maybe even changes you.” 
― Mark Oliver Everett, Things The Grandchildren Should Know

(via echo-of-words-deactivated201304)

I really shouldn’t have, since I should know my way between these particular points of A and B, but nonetheless…I got lost.

But my getting lost is not the point of this post.  The point is that I realized something as I was trying to find my way (the first time around).

I began thinking to myself: what if, tomorrow, I found out that I have a terminal disease.  After all, these things do happen sometimes.  But what if I found out that I was going to die much sooner than I had previously anticipated?  What if I had somewhere around 2 months to live?

I know this is hardly a new question for human to ask, but I think it’s an important question.

Because I thought about it, and realized that I really don’t have many regrets.  I have some, of course, but not as many big regrets as I feel most people respond with when they are asked this question.  I think, considering my upbringing, I was encouraged to cherish my life.  I was encouraged to notice the blurred line between the small moments of life, and the big ones.  I have been lucky enough to realize my current calling in life, and I am on the path to fulfilling it.  If I die before I finish, I’ll know that whatever I managed to accomplish was, in fact, for something.

However, I realized that I do have one regret.  Just one, I think.

And I’m afraid it’s a bit to intimate of a regret for me to share with you, great wide world of the Internet. (Which might beg the question as to why I’m writing this post at all.  But you know what?  It’s my blog, so you can just keep on scrolling.)

Regardless, it’s a regret of something I haven’t done.  One that may or may not be out of my hands to begin with, but it still holds first on my list of things to do before I die.  Most of the rest of that list are just frivolous possibilities and while I might miss them a bit, I don’t think I’ll mourn having not done them (at least not very much).  But this regret…. I mean I know I’d be sad and probably scared about dying,but I think my death would be extra bittersweet for me if it had this regret tacked onto it.  And what’s even sadder, is that even if I had 2 months to try and clear it…I don’t think I could.  Not in two months.  Not something that I haven’t been able to do in nearly 23 years.

But then again, I’m not dying am I?  At least, not as far as I know.  So what’s to stop me from starting now?  When I have no foreseeable time limit, aside from one usually allotted to a person of my age and health?  Why don’t I try NOW to fulfill that one regret?  So that whenever I do feel my life slipping out from underneath my eyelids, I can think to myself: “Well…at least I _____ .”  Why don’t I?

Well, that seems to be the question of the hour, doesn’t it, folks?

Am I crazy? I knew this day would come, I just thought it would be different.

But is this really how it happens?  Is this really how the world works? 

If this is all there is, I’d rather wait.  I’m sorry if that means I end up ‘alone’ with 30 cats, but I’d rather be alone than to settle.  To pretend that whatever I get is good enough. That something is better than nothing.  That sometimes you don’t get to be the heroine of your own story. That maybe all those books that taught you differently were just that: stories.  Fiction from the minds of mortals wishing for more.

I refuse to accept that.  I’ll deal with the loneliness, the self-consciousness, and the insecurities…but I refuse to accept that.  I refuse to accept that this is all there is. That this is the best I can hope for.

I’d rather have nothing, than to not have it all.