TRAPPSTR

Thanks, Debbie. (a reminder on living)

Posted on 01. Sep, 2010 by Brett in God

Imagine you could touch and see all the nuggets of wisdom from the last decade of your life. Imagine you could gather them together, one-by-one, and pour them into a giant distillery of wisdom. Imagine then that the machine slowly awakes from its sleep, creaking to life. Gears begin to grind, steam shoots from aluminum pipes, whistles blow, conveyor belts begin to glide along. And on the other end of this giant wisdom machine is a spigot and out from that spigot gushes the juicy nectar of A Big Truth.

If all that learning could be distilled into one summarizing truth, what would it be?

I know what mine would be.

The grand, sticky sweet truth of my 20s could be summarized in three words: Live life intentionally.

It’s as if God rented a billboard in the background of every scene of my 20s, and they all say a different version of the same truth…

Live

life

intentionally.

Live life on purpose, Brett.

Brett, don’t coast.

Brett, don’t just float along and react.

Don’t let 2 hours-a-night of primetime TV steal your days, Trapp.

Don’t let a life hard-wired for rich adventure be shorted out by an influx of passivity.

Plan.

Live.

Thrive.

Are you listening, Brett?

I think a lot of people think God has given them a life like a rock. I think He’s given me a life like play-dough. And the play-dough is ours to make a work of art or a little pile of play-dough poop. And though I believe he is directing our hands in some weird way, He affords us a million little choices, a million little right or lefts, a million little ups or downs. And every little choice links together to form a life.

The story is His, but for some insane reason he hands us the pen and let’s our chubby little kid-hands write a bit.

Yikes.

Scary thought–that we’ve been given one shot to make this life count for something. There was a start…and there will be a finish. There is no opt-out option for death.

I’ve faced death only a few times in my life. When my dad died when I was 19 was one of them.

But I faced it this week again–first time in a while.

I have a good friend here in Atlanta named Matt. On Saturday night Matt’s mom, Debbie, was out shopping with his sister. She sat down for a minute, slumped over, and never woke up. A brain hemorrhage had suddenly and unexpectedly ended her life.

Sunday morning a few of us went over to Matt’s house. We sat in silence mostly. We tried our best to be some comfort in an ocean of grief. I broke down once, thinking again about that day ten years ago when my own parent had passed on.

And we listened to Matt tell of his mom, Debbie. He told how that week she had sent he and his brother and sister long text messages, telling them how much she loved them. One of Matt’s buddies from college told how his mom once brought tons of furniture and rugs and spent all day decorating their college pad. Later that day, some friends set up a Facebook page where countless people told stories of how she lived life…

intentionally.

I left Matt’s and called my mom. Just needed to hear her voice.

I’m going to Debbie’s funeral in a few minutes. Hoping the call to live life intentionally becomes a little more real, because I know I’m not there yet.

Thanks, Debbie. We miss ya already.