But, we don’t know that, do we?
We don’t know what tomorrow will hold. We don’t even know if there will be a tomorrow for us.
It once again came clear to me two Sundays ago in our Church meeting when, across from where I sat, my father’s body stiffened just before his arm began to shake uncontrollably. His skin instantly took on a sickly taupe color as he stood, seemingly disoriented.
“Dad, are you okay?” I asked, subduing my alarm. “I don’t know,” he replied before dropping into a different chair.
It passed, but not before piercing pain in both shoulders covered his brow with sweat. We think it was a minor stroke (is any stroke ‘minor’?). He’s had nine heart surgeries, including a quad and a quintuple bypass. He also has severe coronary artery disease, arrhythmia, and blood issues. He’s fine today but any moment could be his last . . . which reminds me that what is true of him is true of me, and of everyone . . . of you, too.
Lisa and I were quiet, later that day as we took an evening drive – my right hand reaching across to the passenger seat, searching for her familiar touch, instinctively grasping for what can’t be held forever. The day’s “event” served well to impress upon us that our hearts had that moment to intertwine, nothing more. It’s easy to forget . . . to think there will always be time to hold hands, to share love in the secret realm of mingled spirits.
But we need to remember, tomorrow can never be more than an illusion until we look back and call it “Yesterday.” We have today. That’s it.
If you knew tomorrow was to be your last day this side of heaven, would anything change? Would you love your spouse any differently (more?) if today was your last day on earth?
It might be . . . and for some, it will be.
Death has a way of bringing into focus all that truly matters.
Loving your wife matters . . . loving your husband matters . . . today.
What is the last memory you hope your spouse will have of you? That less than kind remark? That disapproving look? That underlying tension punctuating much of your communication? The big argument? Of course not. Good husbands and wives want the last memory to be one of the best that their love has to offer.
Our last moment together isn’t one we get to choose.
The only guarantee of time together is the moment you’re in, right now.
. . . which is why you should Love Your Spouse Like There’s No Tomorrow.
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