The Good Fight

Godspeed, my friend.


All the time we waste on the judgment of others…

the time spent worrying about achievements and money…

the time invested in work that doesn’t fulfill us or allow us to be our better selves;

the time wasted in worry, self-doubt, and self-criticism…

the opportunities squandered to be kind rather than selfish,

to spread hope rather than fear,

to react with love rather than anger.

I’m thinking of this today.

You see, I lost another family member to pancreatic cancer, and I can tell you with the certainty of experience that at the end of your life, you will not be wondering if you could’ve made more money.

You will not be impatient for your next promotion or award nor gain any satisfaction from gazing at your stock portfolio or bank statement.

You will not be anxious about ratings or rankings nor envious of co-workers or neighbors.

You will not be angry at perceived slights from years ago. You will harbor no resentments.

You will not care how you look nor care what others think.

You will be thinking about how quickly this came upon you.

You will be hoping all those who have loved you, and all those you love, know in their hearts the unending nature of that love.

You will be worried about them, worried that you’re leaving them and will no longer be able to support them. The grief and exhaustion you will see in their faces will add to that worry.

You will be doing the very hard work of dying, because that doesn’t often come easily with this disease.

It will feel like an unending marathon, sprinting the entire way, past pain, past exhaustion, which is why 2 Timothy 4 resonates so powerfully:

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

The only things that matter in the end are never, ever things.

They are people.

Don’t wait to tell them of your love.

Don’t wait to give them your attention and time.

Don’t miss any opportunity to hold them, to comfort them, to encourage them.

For I have become too closely acquainted with death. We’re on a first name basis, unfortunately.

And losing those we love is the only way we learn the brevity of life.

It ends so soon.

It always ends so soon.