There is an old saying that I really love … “There are seven days in a week, and ‘someday’ is not one of them.” I think I love it because I so ardently believe it’s true. There is no such thing as someday – there is only now, and now is fleeting.
Lately I have been second-hand to several tragedies that have left me more than a bit stirred emotionally. This week alone I have heard of five deaths within the outer circle of my inner circle and though they do not affect me personally … they affect me … personally. Because I love. Because I hurt. Because I am cursed with compassion and I cannot disassociate what and who were, for who are no longer.
Sometimes when I hear about death I am afraid, not to die myself, but to miss living somehow. I think of how many days run into other days that spiral inside of my ever-running life that runs me. And though I try to be intentional about time spent with friends and family and faith – I know I fall short of the depth I believe my spirit was meant to pour out.
And so I apologize. I apologize for every time I put off reaching out. Holding on. Staying put. Making time. I apologize for failing to recognize the beauty before me. Above me. Beneath my feet. And all around me. I apologize for using words that weren’t always kind. Or thoughtful. Or respectful. Or necessary.
I need the world to do. To say. To love. And to do so now. There may not be tomorrow, and there is not much left of today, but I will certainly try to be more for the time that remains.
All my love,