NOTE: It’s been so.very.long. since I’ve linked with Lisa-Jo’s Five-Minute Friday. In her writing community, we are called to write for five-minutes flat, no editing, rethinking, and so on. And so this I can assure you: this post most assuredly has errors. 🙂
Lisa-Jo’s assigned theme for this week: OPPORTUNITY. And I needed permission to write for only five minutes, because I’m heading off to help my parents, following Dad’s recent heart problems. (Thank you for your prayers, friends. You’ve been amazing.)
We all know it way down in the deepest parts of our souls that every moment, every breath, every beat of a beating human heart is but this: another glorious opportunity.
If you’re a mama, you know what opportunity is. It’s that moment when you first hold your pinkish baby — with that striped beanie on her head — and you’re beholding every eyelash, each finger wrinkle, the curled toes. And you sit there, dizzily dreaming about future breaths and opportunities. You dream like a crazy mama, on an inclined bed with rails on both sides, and your whole physical self is sort of hurting, but you don’t really notice. All you can think of is opportunity.
You know opportunity if you’re a wife, feeling the security of a strong hand on your wedding day, and he’s holding yours, until forever comes, vowing ’til death do us part. Ah yes… How the two of you were bound, not for just this moment, but to make an impact for the long haul, like some destined call TOGETHER.
And you know opportunity when you get that scary call on a Sunday morning, like I did this past Sunday. You know it when you get that breath-stopping phone call about your superman-Dad. Your brother is suddenly on the cell phone telling you that your dear Dad — your lifetime hero — is laying in ICU with a freaky heart problem. Dad’s the guy who taught you how to throw a Frisbee, ditch a bad boyfriend, catch a fish (and maybe even gut it). You’re scared, and you can’t quite believe that what you’re hearing on the phone is right. Because dads don’t seem mortal. And you know right then, that every moment — every single little breath — is an enormously huge opportunity for life.
I knew it this week. I knew right anew that we’re mortal. I also knew that this is a new year, and I want to do this year right, and this year started with a scary but timely reminder that this life here is an OP-OR-TUN-I-TY.
Believe it, friend.
We’ve got this. one. life.
Just one, this side of eternity. Let’s do this.
(P.S. I’m praying for more opportunities for Dad. And praise Jesus, He’s giving them to us.)
(And P.P.S. to God: I look forward to heaven with you, God. I really do. But Father, do I ever love these moments here. Thank you for every single, stinkin’ one.)