I've been having a hard time accepting that I have to work and I am missing so much. I need to remember that I can have my moments with my boys; I can still have a meaningful life. I need to let go of what I cannot control and grasp the time I DO have. Even if it is only one hour, that is MY hour, my free time for who really matters.
When I was at Lara's house for the BBQ on Saturday she told me that her house just sold, Hayden moved to Hawaii last week with his dad and then added that she is going in Thursday for cancer surgery and will need quite a bit of downtime with her recovery. I blinked back tears as I heard her words, thinking surely there must be some mistake—not courageous, beautiful, strong, determined Lara … not my sister who has become a hero to me and so many … not the amazing mother of four who would survive all that she has and outlive us all.
For the past several days, I've had no words, only heartache. But then inspiration came—offering me a chance to learn something from her.
The following promise is how I will live out my days here on earth—inspired by Lara, my remarkable sister whose life is the epitome of what really matters.
Because of you, I will smile at the grumpy cashier. I will smile at those with no smile because I don’t know what battle they're facing today.
Because of you, I will say yes to candy machines and to holding that little fluffy puppy that will probably pee on my hand. Because these things make my kids happy—and one day they will remember I said yes to candy and puppies, just like their aunt Lara.
Because of you, I will buy the pretty dresses on the same day I say, “Yes, I’ll eat ice cream.”
Because of you, I will celebrate the rare occasion when my 10-year-old grabs my hand as we walk through a parking lot. And I will notice the unusual occurrence that he leaves his hand in mine far longer than needed.
Because of you, I will let that aggressive driver into the line of traffic even though I waited my turn. I will even wave and wish him well.
Because of you, I will stop for sunsets and butterflies that hit me when I'm riding my bike down Millcreek canyon. I will acknowledge such things are miracles. Because they are.
Because of you, I will take the stairs. I will take the scenic route. I will take a chance if it’s something worth fighting for.
Because of you, I will carry spare change just in case I see that man on the corner of 1300 E. and I-80 with a sign that says, “Anything helps.” Because you always want to help.
Because of you, I will schedule my mammogram and ob/gyn appointments. And I will remind my friends to do the same.
Because of you, I will sing in the car. I will sing in the shower. Even though it sounds a little pitchy. Even if I don’t know the words. I will sing.
Because of you, I will give hugs to people in pain. And because you would save anyone, anything from pain and suffering if you could.
Because of you, I will live life now, not “someday.”
Because of you, I will call all my sisters at least once a week. Even if it goes to voicemail. Even if all I say is, “Have you heard the new Taylor Swift song? I think you would love it.”
Because of you, I will say, “I am sorry.” Even when it’s difficult to say. Even when I think the other person should say it first.
Because that is what you taught me to do.
Because of you, I will bless the butterfly that hits me while I'm riding my bike. Because you taught me everyday miracles are everywhere if we just open our eyes and look for them.
Thanks for helping me learn about living and loving like today matters, because it does.
