I do a lot of thinking when I mow the lawn. The constant hum of the engine makes it easier somehow to move through time. One minute I’m a little kid on a dirt bike, the next I’m interviewing the President of the United States. One minute, I’m witnessing the birth of my daughters, the next I’m in the green room with Oprah and Bill Cosby discussing the show they’re about to do.
I have been blessed with many different lives, and each one is temporary. It’s funny, we acknowledge this as truth, but we don’t let it change us. It should.
I knew a man who was deep in grief over the loss of his son. A few weeks after his funeral, he was walking on his Kentucky farm on a spectacular day. For the first time in a while, he noticed the green grass and the blue skies. He sensed God’s presence and His voice. “You’re only here for a few minutes.” The words literally changed his grief. Hope, which seemed so distant just moments before, raced back and settled inside him.
Let it settle inside you.
As the mower hums along I’m back at that ocean-side dinner in Florida with my family and we’re watching the sun slowly disappear over the water. I’m with my parents on their 50th wedding anniversary listening to them retell the stories of when they first met. It’s Christmas morning and my little girls are giggling as they rip open their presents. I’m at a baseball game with my brother. I’m at the beach with friends. And I’m carrying my friend’s casket.
You’re only here for a few minutes.
Truer words have never been spoken. Temporary is a thoroughbred jumping from the starting gate. It cannot be contained as it speeds toward its inevitable destiny. And that’s okay.
Let it change you.