I'm not young. I'm not old either, but I'm definitely not young, and I've been hearing about some lovies I know who have gotten cancer. Two are already gone to be with Jesus. It presses on me how our lives are but a vapor. None of us will be here very long. I ask myself what I want to do with my one, wild life, and the answer, with a few variations, is the same: I want to tell people, especially broken people, that Jesus loves them.
I've done this in a few big ways. Now all I have is little ways. It has to do, because it's all that's left. Sometimes I grieve my losses, and then feel ashamed because the little way has the essential component of my life well-lived: I get to tell someone about Jesus' love. When I'm gone, I'll be glad I got to say, "Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done. You are loved. Cherished. Desired by God, who made you." I know this is true. So be at peace. And try not to make a mess of things.
Wasn't that simple? Thanks for listening to my big, little spiel. Thanks. Whoever you are.