I’ve seen lives end in tragedy, and, in each instance, dealt with the sobering reminder we just never know how many days we have.
When someone dies, people sometimes talk about the dash carved on their tombstone between the dates of their birth and death.
I can’t help but notice how small the dash always looks.
We may have 10 years left or we may be on earth for 100, but in the scope of time exactly how long is that?
My point is, the first sentence in the above quote by the late golfer Walter Hagen is true.
So are the rest.
I know I’m here for just a little while so why do I wish time away or rush through my day. Why do I spend time worrying about what others think or whether things will always work out the way I plan?
I will say for the past three years, I have worried less than at any other time in my life.
Events in life, some unfortunate and others unforgettable, have taught me a valuable lesson about worry.
There is absolutely no point in it.
Allow me to illustrate. Someone once told me worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it never gets you anywhere.
I’ve wasted a lot less time worrying in the last three years, and do you know what?
Life is better.
I know things will be taken care of, and I know they will work out. They may not always work out the way I plan, but that’s usually for the best anyway because I am really bad at planning.
There are, however, things I know I should do better because of two simple facts.
My days are numbered, and there’s no way to earn more when my number’s up.
There’s no telling what I’ve missed on a Monday wishing it was a Friday, or how much time I’ve lost trying to hurry and get the job done.
I hope, from now until I have no more time left, I can work to get better at slowing down.
I hope I can have greater conversation and type fewer instant messages.
I hope I can sit in the office chair less and the porch swing more.
I hope there are a lot less late nights and a lot more lake days.
I hope I can stop and smell the roses, because we all have something in common with them.
We’re all here for only a short time.