Deck Chairs
At Sunday Mass, Father started his homily with the story of the Titanic and how, after it hit an iceberg, some on board decided to rearrange the deck chairs. With all the chaos going on around them, they were worried about the deck chairs. He asked us, "if you were given four months to live, what would you do?". Not many people on their death beds wish for more money or bigger houses or more stuff. They wish for more time with the people that they love. But here we are...rearranging the deck chairs as we "wait". We concentrate on futile tasks, things that have no lasting impact. We're just rearranging the deck chairs.
Viv and I had tears rolling down our faces about 3 minutes into Father's homily. It felt a little like a gut punch. Like a "HEY, you! Wake up!" moment. Later that afternoon Matt said the same thing. He felt like that homily was made specifically for him to hear, specifically on that Sunday. If I had to guess, everyone in the church felt that way. Father was speaking directly to each one us, personally.
We spent this past Thanksgiving week with my folks and the kids. I’d love to say that we didn’t rearrange the deck chairs during the week, but we did.
I'm going to try harder though. I know that time with family is fleeting. Time with my mom and dad, with my brothers and their families, with my kids and with my husband and with my faith. None of us are promised anything past this moment in time, so I'd like to stop worrying about those darn deck chairs, and focus more on what matters most.
Comments
Post a Comment