Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Life Lessons for 2008

Last night, I sat in a living room I have been in many times before, with family friends I've known since I was eight. We gathered to celebrate the new year and to watch "The Ultimate Gift." I won't spoil the movie, but a man is given instructions in his grandfather's will for a series of tasks, and along the way, he meets a little girl with leukemia.

As the movie played, I sat there doing everything in my power not to think about another girl. It's been a year and a half since my friend Alyssa died from cancer. Looking at the TV screen, I could see Lyssa's face and smile. I looked around the room at people smiling and wondered when I'll be normal again, when the word cancer will not give me flashbacks to Alyssa and thus make me sob uncontrollably.

Of course, I know that you never really are "normal" again. The loss and pain never go away; you just learn to live with them. Somehow though, I'm glad that I see Lyssa's face. I'm not glad that entire rooms of people think I'm having a nervous breakdown, but then somehow I don't seem to care about it all that much.

Lyssa was a gift. I will never forget the day that her father stood up in church and said that her death was not a tragedy because every day with her for fifteen years was a gift. If when I die, I am even half the woman that Lyssa was at 15, I will have lived a life worthy of my Creator and her friendship.

So I'm glad for Lyssa's face, the pain and the memories because Lyssa reminds me what matters. This past year and a half, I hope I've learned more to slow down for simple joys like fresh strawberries. I hope I've laughed more often and loved more deeply.

I never make new year's resolutions, but perhaps this year is the year to start. I resolve to view each day as Alyssa did, as a gift to be treasured; to make more time for those I love, to see them as the gifts that they are; to keep loving deeply, in spite of how badly it hurts to say goodbye.

Thank you, Lyssa for teaching me to live and love passionately every moment. I hope that one day I will finsih the race as faithfully as you, as we join together in praise around the throne of God.