It was very early this morning and I was sitting in my sunroom, going through my normal ritual of prayer and meditation.
It was dark in the room, coffee in hand; the only light shinning was a reflection from the snow. Going over a mental list of family, friends and clients made me extremely conscience of those I so deeply care about. Looking at the two matching chairs on the opposite side of the room made me uncomfortably aware that someday, one of them would be empty. Oh no, this is impossible, that can't be true. This is where we drink morning coffee, watch the birds and plan our day. This is the very location that's designated for our afternoon reflections. This is where we share our successes and address our trials. However, one day, hopefully not very soon, one chair will be empty.
Upset, emotional and forward thinking, I began to ask myself if I have spent the days encouraging my wife? Have I told her how beautiful she is? Have I lifted her up and empowered her like no one can do but me? I do not want to be sad or pessimistic but the actuality of life is that someday, it's over. I want to be absolutely certain that I invest in my wife today like it could be our last day. When that tragic time arrives, then, it's too late. I don't want any regrets and I don't want to look back and say that I could have done a much better job.
Honestly, she deserves for me to live up to the promises I made standing before man and God when I entered into the covenant to love, cherish and honor her. The one thing that I'm in absolute control of is my spoken words. I can elect to encourage or discourage, empower or reject. I want to always be there for the one I love the most. I want to be her rock, the very foundation for her emotional well-being.
Tomorrow could be too late. Tomorrow one of those chairs could be empty. We are not promised additional time, only this present moment.
Hey, go give your wife a hug; she's sitting in her chair.
Live on purpose,
Aaron
