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We
welcome your letter to the editor.
Letters
should be no longer than 300 words and must be signed and include
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Submissions should be typewritten if possible.
Deadline
for submission is noon on Monday.
Perspectives
Patti M.
Clark
Editor
Life
too short to take for granted
Last week’s plane
crash in Lexington should have been a wake-up call for all of
us.
Life is too short and we’re not guaranteed another minute
on this earth.
On that plane were people from all walks of life.
There were newlyweds, married just 12 hours when they died together
in the crash.
There were businessmen, community servants, brothers, sisters,
husbands, wives, children.
There’s the story of the mother, who was bumped from the
flight, but insisted her 16-year-old daughter head back home to
Kansas with her riding trainer.
Jonathan and Scarlette Hooker had married the day before in front
of 250 friends and family members. He was a former UK baseball
player; she was a 2004 graduate of Centre College. They were ready
to start their life together.
Lynda McKee was on the way to Atlanta to visit her grandchildren,
Alex, 7 months, and Caleb, 2.
Jesse Clark Benton and his wife, Bobbie, were headed to Aruba
to celebrate her 50th birthday.
And the stories go on and on.
One minute they were thinking about what they had to do next,
their upcoming plans.
They next they were gone, snuffed out like a flame caught in a
heavy wind.
As I read their stories in the papers last week, I was amazed
at how much like the rest of us they were.
Just regular people going about their lives.
I think sometimes we all forget how quickly life passes. We don’t
spend enough time with the people who mean the most to us. We
don’t set our priorities in the right order, spending time
on things that, in the long run, won’t mean a lot.
There’s a quote that says, “The day you were born,
you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that on the
day you die, the world will cry and you will rejoice.”
Think about it.
When we’re born, people celebrate our birth. For the most
part, we are wanted and loved.
But what happens next is up to us.
We can live our lives touching those around us or we can live
them selfishly, concentrating only on what makes us happy. The
difference will be how we’re viewed at our death.
Who will remember us and the difference we made in their lives.
Who will mourn us.
Who will cry for the life snuffed out too soon?
Some might say it’s morbid to think about our death. I’ve
come to realize that if we don’t realize this breath might
be the last, we’ll spend our days getting ready to live
our lives. Before we know it, our lives will be over and nothing
that we thought we wanted to accomplish will have been completed.
Over the last few years, my priorities have shifted. I used to
think that being successful meant having lots of people like me;
getting awards for my walls, and making lots of money. Sure it’s
nice to be liked. It’s great to be acknowledged for the
work we do and getting paid for doing things we like is pretty
cool, too.
But what I’ve come to realize is that in the long run, none
of those things really matter.
What matters is that I’m standing next to the gate when
my daughter comes off the field from her first marching band performance,
needing a hug and getting it from Mom and Dad.
What matters is spending afternoons in the kitchen and being among
the first to know my daughter has a boyfriend.
What matters is having lunch with my husband on a busy day, just
stopping for a few minutes to cherish the memories we’ve
had over the last 19 years.
What matters is spending time with a treasured friend, sitting
in the swing talking about our days — or maybe saying nothing
at all.
What matters is stopping to give someone you care about a big
hug, letting them know how much you really do care and what a
difference they’ve made in your life.
These things won’t earn me any awards. They won’t
make me any money. I won’t be written up in any professional
journals. But my treasures will be in my heart — where they
belong.
And then, should something happen, I know the people around me
will know they were loved and that I lived my life the way I wanted.
That I wasn’t waiting for it to happen to me.
They may cry, but I hope instead they rejoice and know that I
made my life here on earth what I wanted it to be; that I realized
before it was too late that the things that matter the most are
the those that touch our hearts. |
