A Letter to Life

For years, I’ve struggled to comprehend what “life to the full” can look like, here on earth.  The life that Jesus promised in John 10:10:

I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

Last week, a woman sat down near me at a coffee shop.  For some reason, I felt like I should talk with her.  We small-talked for a bit about a book I was reading.  We talked about her daughters.  We talked about happy memories at Disney World, and about the difficult memories we sometimes wish we could forget.

Then she shared part of her story with me: how she just left an abusive relationship, witnessed by her three- and ten-year-old daughters.  She’s just trying to hold things together for her family now. 

Inwardly, my jaw dropped.  I couldn’t fathom her heartache and pain.  Gently, I asked her if I could share one of my favorite quotes with her:

The Word became human and made His home in our mess. – John 1:14 (paraphrase)

And then it dawned on me: Jesus came down to earth, and lived for 30 years a go-to-work, sleep, eat life.  He probably spent long hours studying for school until his eyes nearly shut.  He probably had to help clean his dad’s shop.  Maybe he cried when he didn’t make the baseball team.  And I’d be willing to bet he joked around with his brothers, laughing ‘til his sides ached. 

The point is, He spent his life loving God… and loving the people around him. 

I wonder if that’s what Life is all about. 

*        *         *        *        *        *        *

God recently showed me a picture of a gift-wrapped box, complete with a ribbon.  He offered it to me… it was the gift of Today.  And I realized: each day, I have a choice: I can open this gift and enjoy it, or I can just push it aside and try to forge ahead on my own, with little sense of purpose.

Here’s a letter I wrote to Life:

Dear Life,

I unwrapped you this week.

You brought new birth into my home.  Six sweet puppies… and Willow, their mama, knew exactly what to do with them.  She is such a miracle!

You brought daffodils in February and a gentle rainstorm to lull me to sleep one night. 

You reminded me of the importance of my story through the stories my classmates vulnerably shared during lecture.  And you gave me friends to listen to me vent, and to hold me when I cried.

You surprised me with staying up late just to bake warm scones, and with many brothers and sisters to pray over me one day.

You reminded me that finding fullness might be as simple as this: connecting with God.  Connecting with people.

Thank you.

“Because I live, you also will live.” – Jesus, John 14:19