Fragility of Life

I’m pondering the fragility of life these days. Two events juxtapose themselves. My mother recently turned ninety, and a friend in his sixties is dying of cancer.

Can we explain why some live into their nineties, while others die so young?

According to the National Vital Statistics Report,the average life expectancy for American men is 76 years, and for women it’s 81, with Hispanics living somewhat longer. Most people are concerned about healthy living these days, but the top two causes of death for adults is still heart disease and cancer.

My mom is riding the tide of good genes. She has already lived longer than her parents did by at least 5 years. She pretty much ate and drank the way she wanted to most of those years. I’m grateful that she quit smoking about 15 years ago. Although her lungs aren’t good, her mind is sharp and clear. She still gets a joke, and remembers details about her life and family that I cannot. I spoke to her this morning. She wants to live to 100. If I live better, will I live longer? Do I even want to?


Mom & Georgette, 'bout 10 yrs. ago

 As a nation we go to great lengths to live better and extend our lives, but as youths, we often abuse our bodies with unhealthy substances: alcohol, nicotine, THC, and maybe cocaine and LSD, to name a few. Eating right? Later for that. And risky behavior? Absolutely! It goes with the territory.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I believed I was invincible. Life was a long journey upon which I had only just embarked. I partied hearty, often staying out consuming alcoholic beverages until two in the morning, driving myself home with a blood alcohol content far above the safe limit, and then getting up at 7 AM to go to work. God had to have been watching out for me, because I was not.

Now that I’m older, I value and guard my health and safety, realizing that life, the gift of life, can be snuffed out in an instant. There are no guarantees for how long a person will live, and only God knows the day. In the book of Psalms (139:16), David speaking to Him says, "Your eyes did see my unformed substance; And in Your book they were all written, the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was none of them." So then death is a divine appointment.

When my husband died, I felt cheated. George had lived a healthy life, eating well, exercising often (he loved sports), and maintaining a low body fat percentage. He’d never smoked and was careful about alcohol consumption. He was too young to die. But . . . the divine appointment.

So my friend hovers on the brink of death, his wife lamenting that it’s going too fast. They only just found out about his cancer. My heart aches for her. Many are praying, including me. "Lord, have mercy! Please heal him." In the morning, my faith rises up as I intercede, but by days end, my fear overcomes my faith. The roller coaster of emotion takes me back to January, 2008. I beg. I plead. But in the end I feel helpless. No explanation can satisfy me.

However . . .

I believe that death is just the beginning . . . the beginning of eternity on a different level of existence. I look forward to spending that time with my Lord, my husband, my dad. But today, my heart beats with the psalmist once again: Psalm 39:4. Jehovah, make me to know mine end, And the measure of my days, what it is; Let me know how frail I am.