Sacred

If you stop long enough, you remember why you are here.

You may think of those with an unknown number of days, living in the final stages of cancer.  Thinking of friends who came your way for a time and faded beyond your grasp, you may glimpse the impermanence of relationships. Pieces of memory usher in your elderly grandfather who passed before you really came to understand him.

Years after a life fully lived, you see her faded black and white photograph. She's wearing clothes you have only seen in movies. You don't know what she was thinking when the image was recorded.  And she didn't know how the remaining pages of her life would be filled, or how she would die. Or what relative many decades later would find the captured moment and know only a tiny piece of her years.

All that is lasting is impossible to capture in the finite, touchable things that bring us the most comfort. We're afraid to put too much confidence in what we cannot feel, or see, or have confirmed with consistency of human beliefs. But those very things keep us alive in the truest sense when everything else is failing.

If you stop long enough, you remember for a second why you are here.  Out of necessity, immersed in the details of everyday, you forget the profound reason life has been given to you. You may forget unintentionally about the mark you would like to leave for others. You may forget intentionally how quickly those who have gone fade from your own crowded memory.

But remember to make the most of your time. It's sacred, just as the most quiet part of you is God.