A momentary break

Whew...life moves quickly, doesn't it? I mean that, in every way, in every manner, life seems to move quickly. Unless you are suffering, I suppose.

I put Ellie to bed about an hour ago, took out the trash, played through some hymns for a funeral I'm cantoring on Wednesday, talked to my boss and I just sat down to my computer with a cup of coffee and thought, perhaps I should take a quick "blog break" before finishing up several administrative tasks before calling it a night. And really, who doesn't want to work on administrative tasks at 10:00 at night!

So, I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Well, not really death, perhaps, as much as life and it's relative shortness. At my home church this past Sunday a family of five was killed as they were leaving church in a car accident. I knew the parents: they were some of my youth counselors growing up and I worked on staff with Christy when I served at Custer Road UMC in seminary. The community, as you can imagine, is devastated.

Life is short.

I think about a colleague of mine I look up to in ministry who is not "old" in any sense of the term and who is suffering through incredible cancer. I think of two of my choir members who are fighting cancer.

I watched the movie "Bucket-list" last night and am in the middle, coincidentally, of reading N.T. Wright's newest book "Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church."

This has gotten me to thinking lately really not about death at all, but about life. And about beauty. And about justice. And about fellowship. And about light.

And about how it ALL really matters.

It all really matters.

Every moment, matters. Every breath is a gift.

And so, if we haven't talked in a while, I really want to sit down with you over a cup of coffee (or the beverage of your choice) and just talk. How are you? What's going on in your life? What is giving you energy right now? Where are you finding rest? How are your relationships?

Let's not wait, o.k.?