The Brevity of Life

SHARON ROCKWELL | CONTRIBUTOR My mother was known in our family for her pithy statements which were intended to impart wisdom. One of her favorites was “Life is short and then you die.” That may have been a child’s version of a verse from the book of James, “yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). As children we would appeal to mother for sympathy when something earthshattering occurred in our world. Complaints like “My fort fell over,” “My sister hit me,” and “I forgot my lunch money” would be met with those words of wisdom. “Life is short and then you die.” We received little sympathy but learned not to make the same mistakes a second time. During my college years, a neighbor who had already raised her family passed away after a long illness. The woman seemed so old to me. But I recall my mother commenting that her life seemed so short. At our neighbor’s funeral, the pastor talked about life being a dot on a line that extended to eternity. My mother’s words came back to me: “Life is short and then you die.” But this time those words had a broader meaning to me. I had watched our neighbor live her life knowing that she would die sooner than she expected. She used her time to pray for others, to encourage others in their faith, and especially to remind anyone who would listen that life is short and getting right with God was of vital importance. She once asked me if I was living a godly life while I was away at college. Her awareness of impending death made her bold in her conversations with others. She knew life was fragile. She knew life is short and then you die...

The Brevity of Life2024-04-18T17:05:29+00:00

The Mist of Motherhood

RACHEL CRADDOCK|CONTRIBUTOR If I am being completely honest, laundry is my least favorite household chore. Like Mary Poppins, I can find an element of fun in most jobs that must be done around the house. But when it comes to laundry, I long for a fairy godmother’s power to simply swoosh away the piles of dirty clothes. Being a mom to four means my laundry basket is always full and sock-matching seems never-ending. We have forty-two pairs of socks in a week’s worth of laundry; the odds of finding all eighty-four socks in the same week are slim. In the new heavens and the new earth, when Christ returns to redeem and restore all things, I have a holy anticipation that socks will no longer go missing. I am convinced sock causalities must have something to do with the Fall. In my flesh, laundry is a begrudging chore. In my flesh, I can’t see laundry rightly as important kingdom work. When I focus my eyes on the earthly things I can see—the piles, the baskets, and oh-so-many socks—I easily become overwhelmed.

The Mist of Motherhood2023-03-24T17:57:01+00:00
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