I've faced death before. I've given birth. I marvel at both.
Right now, I can delight in life as I watch my one-year-old granddaughter explore it and enjoy it and marvel at it herself. The excitement she exudes when she tries or does something for the first time can be exhilarating. I'm on top of the world as I watch her. Then my mind wanders, and I come crashing to earth.
My cousin lies, on life support, in ICU, and my heart jumps back to our many discussions about God and heaven. He has determined that God bases your entry on whether you tried to live a good life; the old "balance in the skies" method. I have determined the Jesus Christ is the only promised entry ticket. Our discussions were many. His decision: concrete. There was no budging him.
What if I am wrong? Well, I suppose I'll see a lot of people that I never thought I would see. I will experience more of that adventure "high" as if I'm meeting them, again, for the very first time.
What if he is wrong? That's why I fluctuate so wildly. Yes, he is suffering now. But how do I feel about sending him to eternal torment? Is his final decision his FINAL decision? Would he give it more thought if he beat this pneumonia and the COPD and woke up?
So, here I ponder: between birth and death. That "dash" we call "life." I love it. I enjoy it. I praise God for it, even when it takes a bad turn for me. Because I trust Him to fix it, or make it work out right.
