The miles went by far too quickly. My son took me by another route. I was taking him back to college, but I hadn't been this way for 25 years. He wanted me to see a windmill farm.
He slept as we drove through it. I marveled at the new look of the Indiana fields, and I stole glances at my son at rest. As we passed through a few towns that were new again to me, I heard myself whisper, "We may never pass this way again."
He woke long before our arrival at campus. Once there, he grabbed his book bag and headed to class. And then we had lunch together. He thanked me for the ride. He thanked me for the time. He thanked me for the lunch. But, wasn't I the thankful one?
Once home, I held my new grandchild. She lay against my chest and I embraced her for more than an hour. I kissed her, I stroked her head and face. I treasured her life--her very existence. She was the center of our room. She was the thought on our four adult minds--she, and the boy I'd left behind two hundred miles to the north. And I thought, "We will never pass this way again."
We hold our infants in trembling arms. We must hold our adult children in equal awe--no less dearly. We are grateful for what they have been. But it is this moment--the one that we breathe in and out just now--it is this moment we've been given to live and to love in. We will never pass this way again. How are you living your loves? How are you giving your life?
Treasure this day my friend. Treasure your loves and your living. For we will never pass this way again.
Grace and peace to you.