|1/5/2010 8:00:00 AM|
If we'd only do those little things we've left undone
|BY JACK K. OVERMYER|
President and Owner, The Sentinel
Here's what a wise woman and friend of many years wrote to me not long ago:
I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries.
I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary; if it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.
I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted.
I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles.
I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.
I'm guessing; I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my loved ones often enough how much I truly loved them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.
And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.
I don't believe in miracles. I rely on them.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
Sid and Al were sitting in a Mexican restaurant. "Sid," asked Al, "Are there any Jewish people in Mexico?" Sid replied. "I don't know, why don't we ask the waiter?"
When the waiter came by, Al asked him, "Are there any Mexican Jews?"
"I don't know Senor, let me ask," the waiter replied, and he went into the kitchen. He returned in a few minutes and said, "No sir. No Mexican Jews."
"Are you sure?" Al asked. "I will check again, sir," the waiter replied and went back to the kitchen. While he was still gone, Sid said, "I cannot believe there are no Jews in Mexico. Our people are scattered everywhere."
When the waiter returned he said, "Sir, no Mexican Jews."
"Are you really sure?" Al asked again. "I cannot believe there are no Mexican Jews."
"Sir, I ask everyone," the waiter replied exasperated. "We have orange Jews, prune Jews, tomato Jews and grape Jews, but no one ever hear of Mexican Jews!"
A college professor, an avowed Atheist, was teaching his class. He shocked several of his students when he flatly stated he was going to prove there was no God. Addressing the ceiling he shouted: "God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I'll give you 15 minutes!"
The lecture room fell silent. You could have heard a pin fall. Ten minutes went by. Again he taunted God, saying, "Here I am, God. I'm still waiting." His countdown got down to the last couple of minutes.
Then a Marine, just released from active duty and newly registered in the class, walked up to the professor, hit him full force in the face, and sent him tumbling from his lofty platform. The professor was out cold!
At first, the students were shocked and babbled in confusion. The young Marine took a seat in the front row and sat silent. The class fell silent.
Eventually, the professor became conscious, but badly shaken. He looked at the young Marine in the front row. When he regained his senses and could speak he asked: "What's the matter with you? Why did you do that?"
"God was busy. He sent me."
Article Comment Submission Form