I spotted a penny on the ground the other day and it triggered a memory that I recalled with surprising detail. My brother Craig was seven or eight years old at the time. We were getting in the car to go someplace and he spotted a penny in the driveway. Not being one to "pick it up and all day long have good luck," he picked it up and chucked it into the air with all the strength his skinny little arm could muster.

My mom was on the other side of the car buckling in our baby sister when she suddenly felt a painful ping on the top of her head. Seeing the penny bounce along the ground, and not believing for one second that pennies fall from Heaven, she picked it up and stormed around the car. Thrusting the offending penny under Craig's nose she demanded to know why he threw it.

Craig could not have been more incredulous...how had his penny ended up in her hand? I couldn't believe how unlucky he was. I mean, what were the chances of that penny landing on her head? We're talking maybe a four inch circumference here. I thought her yelp of pain and ensuing anger were a little over the top at the time, but thinking back I'm sure with the velocity that penny gained on its way down, that it really must have hurt like the devil.

Fast forward thirty years and I'm sitting numbly in the church pew at Craig's funeral. I was experiencing a kind of detached surrealness about the whole thing until the pall bearers walked by with his casket. The sight gave me a panicky feeling inside...that can't be my sweet brother in there! At that moment the agonizing finality of him not being a part of this world ever again cut me to the quick. I could hardly pull myself together enough to stand up and follow the rest of the family out of the church.

Just a few weeks before his accident, Craig had commented (eerily enough) that we'd all better view his death as an event to be celebrated because it would be well worth celebrating. He could sincerely say this because he lived truly believing that "to live is Christ and to die is gain." (Phil. 1:21) He knew that his life was not his own, that it was "bought at a price." (1 Cor. 6:20)

As dozens of people testified, Craig loved Jesus and lived a life that glorified Him...he lived a life that mattered. So many live their lives like it is their own, that the chief end of man is to work hard and then retire to a life of ease. They strive to gain the whole world yet lose their soul in the process...that's a tragedy.

Life is filled with pain, but Craig was spared from much of the evil and pain of this world. At the time of Craig's death a dear woman sent me a card with the following verses, "The righteous pass away; the godly often die before their time. And no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For the godly who die will rest in peace." (Isaiah 57:1-2 NLT). These verses convinced me that Craig's short life was his reward, his "gain."

Losing Craig was a tragedy to all that knew him. We miss his joyful, loving presence more than I can say. But his life was not a tragedy, because his life (and his death) left a lasting, positive impact on the world he left behind and now he is "present with the Lord." (2 Cor. 5:8) There could be no greater tragedy than to leave this life without having the all surpassing knowledge of knowing and accepting that we were bought...redeemed for all eternity. I hope and pray that my own life will have an increasingly positive, eternal impact on the world I leave behind, and that I too, will have lived a that mattered.

I've missed writing. I can't believe how long it has been since I sat down and tried to organize my chaotic thoughts into something intelligible. I set a goal this year (which I thought was reasonable) to write once week, but for several reasons I've fallen off the band wagon.

Apparently I have too much going on. I feel like I run around at break neck speed all the time and never accomplish anything. I experience on a regular basis what Steven Wright described as having amnesia and deja-vu at the same time; "I know I've forgotten this before." My mind has been too scattered to be "all there" for anything or anybody...how sad is that?

Two weeks ago I had to attend my annual job training. This "training" entails some mandatory performances, which if performed less than perfectly, could entail the loss of your job. I always get way, way too worked up about it. This year I came about as close to an anxiety attack as I've ever been. I know the stuff, it's just increasingly obvious that I'm not good at live performances (horrid at them actually).

There was a silver lining in all the hideousness, because this year I was able to attend with Tammy. God was good to arrange that little miracle. Assuming I could keep my job, Bob and I were planning on traveling to Florida the following Friday to watch Dane play baseball. I confessed to Tammy I was a little apprehensive about traveling with Brett. It's not easy flying standby in the best of circumstances (much less with Brett and in the middle of Spring Break).

She convinced me to try and recruit some help for five or six days so that we could leave Brett at home, where he would be much happier anyway. It's never easy for me to ask for help. My sweet, wonderful friend (who, by the way, is just as frantically busy as I am), hauled out her calendar and figured out which days she could help.

The possibility seemed almost too good to be true. Several days of only having to take care of ourselves? Six days of watching baseball for Bob? And three for me? Does life get any better? One thing about not having the freedom to just get up and go is that when you do get a chance to get away you are a billion times more excited and a billion times more thankful.

I came home Tuesday night from training and flew out again Wednesday on what was supposed to be a two day trip. Due to some freakish weather in Orlando I ended up getting stuck there. I had literally hundreds of things I needed to accomplish on Friday before we could leave and now I had only hours to do it all.

When I got home I couldn't decide what to do first...I'd start packing, then realize I better make sure I had everything ready for Brett, that I should probably clean my bathroom, that I better make sure Brett has all his medicine, make sure he has enough food and diapers...and on and on. I would start one thing, get distracted, think of something else, run upstairs and forget what I ran up there for. I was beginning to think I might be losing my mind.

During this agitated racing around I realized I'd hardly paid any attention to my sweet, cooperative Brett laying there contentedly on the floor (like he always does). I knelt down beside him, talking to him and kissing his cheeks and neck. Normally he isn't very patient with all the kissing and stroking I arbitrarily inflict on him...and who could blame him? I get claustrophobic just thinking about someone hovering over me and kissing me like that. Most of the time he none to gently pushes my face away. That day he put up with me, even gently trailing his skinny little fingers along my cheeks--his only way of "seeing" me.

He was being so unusually responsive that I stopped and made myself enjoy the moment and was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Soak this up! This is what matters. Tuck this memory away so you can bring it out later. You're going to Florida!! You have people in your life that love you enough to sacrifice their precious time so that you can get away. Slow down and be thankful!

I don't want my frantic pace keeping me from enjoying life's simple pleasures or cause me to miss out on Divine appointments--which is what I feel I had that day with Brett.

Like my daughter recently reminded me, good relationships don't just happen; they're intentional. You have to be "all there" for people. Frankly, there are times when I'd rather by anywhere but all there, when I want to retreat into myself and not see or talk to anybody.

I think Satan uses both excessive busy-ness and isolation to keep us from making a difference in this world that we're just "a-passin' through." None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow, our life is but a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes, and anyone that knows the good things he ought to be doing and doesn't do them, sins. (James 4:14-17)

I hope in the coming months I'll be able to share that I've been successful in slowing down, that I'm enjoying God's simple pleasures and that I am recognizing (and doing) the good things I ought to be doing.

"Only one life; twill soon by past. Only what's done for Christ will last."