Said goodbye to too many friends, one after the other this year (and we’re only in the first quarter). Parents of friends
have gone as well. I never thought this season will come so soon. My parents go to wakes and funerals all the time, because they are older now.
Death happens with age.
But my friends are all still too young, they don’t even have kids of their own, no retirement plans– let alone memorial plans. They’ve just started. They didn’t battle sickness for so long that it was finally time for them to go. They just stopped, lingered for a beat or two in a coma, before leaving without saying good bye.
My bestfriend texted me, out of the blue, saying that she has been praying for death for a few years now, she can’t wait to see her Creator.
Well, what do I have to say to that?
Thank God He seldom answers better-off-dead prayers?
Death comes for everyone in time anyway.
This morning, I was
afraid to die. I wept in my bed as I tried riding out this feeling in my body–pain, lethargy, weakness, helplessness. I thought of my friends who died too soon, and wondered if it was my turn to go as well.
I wonder if it’s a sin to not want to go home to heaven just yet–to still desire momentary things over an eternity of being with the God who I profess to love?
(I’m sorry, Lord. I still want to fall in love with a man who loves me back, get married, have kids and raise them to love You. I still want a house with cats and dogs and a goldfish pond. I still want to publish my own magazine, maybe even a book. I still want to take care of my parents in their old age. I still want to sing, to dance, to write and proclaim your name.)
I don’t know. Maybe “afraid to die” is not accurate– I just don’t want to die. I’m not scared. Ready or not, it will happen. Someday.
But not yet, Lord. Please. Not yet.