Why I Don't Smoke or Fear Death

For some reason, I keep thinking a blog needs to be a profound, life-changing read. Most of the blogs I read, though, are simple snapshots of everyday life.

I think it started when Uncle Bud came to live with us Monday-Fridays for about six months. He had lived on the east coast, and I started getting to know him after cancer and God gripped him in his early 50's.

He and Aunt Gerrie lived in rural Minnesota and came to the big city of Fargo weekly for radiation and chemo treatments. One night Uncle Bud listened as I practiced piano. When I finished playing, he said in his weak but deep voice, "Sara, don't mess up your life like I did."

I just nodded my head, not sure how to respectfully say, "Don't worry - I won't."

What started as lung cancer from a relentless smoking addiction soon overtook his entire body. One Friday morning before school, I said good-bye to him for the weekend. When he looked at me, he said nothing. Searching his eyes I saw only the cancer, not my Uncle Bud. He died two days later.

That last look still haunts me. The conversation at the piano bench still warns me when facing moral decisions. I was fourteen at the time - impressionable and teachable.

I've done plenty of dumb things in my life, but now you know why smoking isn't one of them. That and other experiences of loss taught me also that life really is brief. We don't have as much time as we think. Or do we?

I didn't realize until this past year how much the fear of death motivated me. That's why every blog, every meal with my husband and children, every conversation with a friend, etc. needed to be just right. What if it was the last one?

Certainly losing my first husband suddenly in an accident in 1999 only helped to reinforce that fear. (More on that another time...) But lately, God's teaching me something new - I do not need to be afraid of death.

The author of Hebrews writes that Jesus came "so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death."

Did you see it there in black and white? - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death! WOW!

No more fear of the final and the last. My fear of death has been the fear of "not enough" - not enough time, work done, love shared, words said, hugs given. But when those fears of 'not enough' surface I can quiet them now with the truth - He is enough and because of Him, so am I and the number of days He gives me.

I realize this blog may not be the most profound thing I write or that you read today, but I can live, and I mean really LIVE, with that.

Dear Lord, Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. (see Psalm 90.)