We never know what a day holds, we can think we do, but we don’t. Not really.

The alarm goes off, we crawl out of bed, jump in the shower, grab a swig of coffee if that’s your thing, feed the cats, dogs, kids or whatever living creatures we are responsible for, throw some clothes on, climb in the car, and we’re down the road to our jobs and daily obligations.

We get home in the evening, scramble around to make a decent meal, maybe sit down for an hour or two and watch the boob tube or read a chapter of the book we’re trying to finish, then we’re in bed only to wake up in eight hours or less and do it all over again.

On the weekends, it’s a lot of the same thing only throw in a few fun activities, maybe some rest and relaxation, possibly home projects we can’t finish during the week, and before we know it, Monday morning’s here and the alarm rooster is crowing once again.

That’s our weekly mindset, most of the time anyway, and if we’re lucky, that’s how it rolls.

But the truth is, we don’t know what a day holds. Ever.

 

Our world can be rocked forever by one visit to the doctor, a simple two-minute phone call, or by one surprising action that another human being decided to make.

This is my “off” Friday as I try to post a blog every other week, but in light of the tragedy that took place on Valentine’s Day at a Florida high school, I just can’t seem to get my mind off of it, and therefore for me to write is a therapy session.

It got me thinking about the day before my mom passed.

She called me at work and asked me to stop by on my way home.

She was anxious to see my “new-to-me” car, which was that bright green beetle bug that I still, to this day drive, providing “she,” or “little green Christine” as I nicknamed her, decides to start. She tends to have her days in her high mileage and old age.

I told my mom on that Wednesday evening, that I was tired.

I promised that I would come up and see her the following day.

Disappointed, she accepted my answer and agreed, she even offered to make dinner the following night so I wouldn’t have to cook.

Our planned next day never came.

She was taken to be with her Lord and Savior in the blink of an eye sometime in the wee hours as that Wednesday night crossed into Thursday morning.

Oh what I wouldn’t give to go back in time and drag my lazy rump up there on that Wednesday evening.

Life’s short.

 

That’s something I thought that only the “old-timers” used to say, but the closer I get to being an old-timer myself, the more I see it.

The way you spend your time, the people you spend it with, really does matter.

“We aren’t promised tomorrow,”

my mom used to always say, and she lived like she meant it.

Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow, something you can do, or say, today.

Prayers for those grieving in Florida