Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. [Psalm 90:12 (NLT)]
Death never takes the wise man by surprise; He is always ready to go. [Jean de La Fontaine]
Several years ago, two friends joined the ranks of widowhood within a week of one another. Because her husband surrendered to cancer several months earlier by stopping all treatment, one woman was not surprised when she joined the club. The other woman, however, went to bed a wife and awoke the next morning to find herself a widow. Despite his looking the picture of health, her husband, having suffered a fatal stroke while she slept, lay dead on the kitchen floor.
Although Ira Byock is a palliative care physician and a leading advocate for improving end of life care, his book The Four Things That Matter Most is as much about living well as it is about dying. The four things referenced in the book’s title are four simple phrases: Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. While we may think we’re simply restating what should be evident to those around us, we must never underestimate the power of those words.
We’d like to picture a peaceful ending with family gathered around our bedside and the opportunity to say and hear whatever needs to be said or heard, but that’s probably not the way our last act of life will be staged. Even though I knew my mother’s cancer would defeat her, when I walked out of her hospital room that afternoon, I never suspected that she’d be in a coffin when next I saw her! When I said farewell to my father after a holiday visit, I never expected that, while pheasant hunting in a cornfield, he’d die of a massive heart attack less than three weeks later. My father-in-law was airlifted to a trauma center and died there before any of us even knew he’d been in a car accident. Neither life nor death go according to plan!
In their last moments, did either of those husbands regret having left something unspoken? When their caskets were closed, did their family members weep because of words they’d left unsaid? Because they had warning, I’d like to think the first man and his family expressed their forgiveness, thanks, and love. As for the second husband—while gasping his last breath, did he wish he’d said “I love you!” before his wife went to bed? Do his children regret not apologizing for something or failing to express their love and appreciation for all he did? Does his wife wish she’d told him how much she loved him before going upstairs that night? Does she regret their previous day’s spat or wish she’d thanked him for his incredible patience?
Why should we wait until the curtain is closing before saying the important things? Any forgiveness to request or extend, any thanks to offer, and any words of love to share should not wait for the final act. We may not even know the play is closing, the people to whom we want to speak may not be present, or conversation may not be possible.
Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. While it may be stating the obvious when we utter those words, being obvious doesn’t mean they don’t need to be said or heard. They’re all things that shouldn’t wait to be expressed until we or the people we love are at death’s door. If Lazarus or his sisters left anything unsaid the first time he died, I imagine they didn’t after his resurrection. Unlike Lazarus, however, we don’t get a second chance at dying and, unlike Martha and Mary, we don’t get a second opportunity to say farewell to our loved ones.
Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. We don’t know when the curtain will close. Is there anyone to whom we should say those words before it does?
Everyone knows they’re going to die, but nobody believes it…If we did, we would do things differently. … Forgive yourself before you die, then forgive others. [Morrie Schwartz in “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom]
Psalm 119, the longest of the psalms, is a song in praise of the Word of God. Since we don’t read this psalm in its original Hebrew, we fail to appreciate its intricate construction. Each of its twenty-two sections begin with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in sequence. Each of the eight verses in those twenty-two sections begin with the letter that introduced it. For example, the first word of the first section begins with alef, as do the next seven verses. In the second section, every line begins with beth. The psalm continues that way up to the 22nd (and last) section where every line begins with the final letter of the Hebrew alphabet, tav. 
We enjoy walking in the local Botanical Garden as well as the nearby Corkscrew Swamp. Although both offer plenty of photo ops and pleasant strolls in God’s creation, the Garden offers more color and variety than a swamp any day. Nevertheless, as much as I enjoy the Garden’s beauty and serenity, I feel more at home in the swamp.
What would you do if you were six and your father said that your mom is in the hospital because she finds it hard to be happy and “did something stupid”? That question is answered in Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s one-act play, Every Brilliant Thing. In their play, that boy, now a grown man, tells the audience that he made of list of everything that was “brilliant” about the world—everything worth living for—and left it on his mother’s pillow. Reflecting a six-year old’s priorities, the list included ice cream, Kung-Fu movies, laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose, burning things, construction cranes, and “me.” Although she returns the list with its spelling corrected, the boy’s mother never comments on it. Nevertheless, he keeps adding to his list. Although his mother eventually takes her life, the narrator tells how his list took on a life of its own and eventually saved him from his own depression and suicidal thoughts.
The tradition of New Year’s resolutions goes back over 4,000 years to the ancient Babylonians (whose new year began in mid-March with the spring equinox). During their 12-day celebration called Akitu, they either crowned a new king or reaffirmed their loyalty to the old one. To ensure the gods’ favor, they promised to return borrowed items and pledged the repayment of all their debts.
Unfortunately, much of our Advent season is not spent joyfully looking forward to celebrating the birth of the Christ child. In hope of finding the perfect gift for everyone on our list, we pore over catalogues and search for sales and coupons. Either we fight for parking spots at the mall and spend hours standing in line or spend those hours sitting at the computer while shopping on line! We then fret and fuss over wrapping those gifts, mailing packages and Christmas cards, hosting and attending parties, baking cookies, making travel arrangements, decorating the house, preparing holiday dinners, and paying the ever-mounting bills. When we say, “Merry Christmas!” we might find ourselves mumbling a Scrooge-like “Bah! Humbug” under our breath! Instead of looking forward to Christmas with anticipation, there are times we can’t wait until it’s all over and done.
Devotions of the Heart 