Celebrating "lasts"

I was reading Facebook recently, and I ran across an item by Pastor Brady Whitton..."Experiencing a lot of "lasts" these days. Tonight will be my last Gathering as pastor of First UMC Amite."

I can more than relate. "Lasts" are everywhere. I had lunch with a former colleague from The Times-Picayune (a friend is more like it, especially since I detest the world colleague) on Wednesday. Sunday is my final "homecoming" event at Fitzgerald. The list could go on and on.

It's the recipe most, many or all United Methodist pastors go through. We come. We built up relationships. We go, releasing those relationships to others. In a word, it sucks.

Mary and I even went to a "transition" seminar a couple weekends back. It told us how to leave. It told us how to go. I hope it was my last "transition." Many have asked that, by the way, whether this will be our last charge, our last move within the church. Since I didn't really anticipate this one, I certainly won't try to anticipate the one to come. I'll preach till I can't. This is a second life, a second chance to do what I think God wanted me to do all my life.

Paul wrote this to his student, Timothy. It is an amazingly clear edict. "As for you, my son, be strong though the grace that is ours in union with Christ Jesus. Take the teachings that you heard me proclaim in the presence of many witnesses, and entrust them to reliable people, who will be able to teach others also. Take your part in suffering, as a loyal soldier to Christ Jesus."

Since none of us know what tomorrow will bring, that's about all we have. Be loyal. Be strong. Teach. Suffer for Christ. That's it. That's life's timeline, to steal again from Facebook.

Five years ago today, we lost a part of our lives. We've all moved on to an extent, one or another, one to another, but it has never, never been easy. I strongly suspect it never really will be. A hole in our lives will always exist, no matter what the future brings for Shanna. When I saw my grandson play baseball last night, I saw some of his father, a whole lot of his mother. Suffering is an easy teacher, friends. Suffering commands. Suffering demands. Suffering is more than words, and it never gives up or lets up.

The point is this: "Lasts" are all around us and we never notice, never pay attention, never celebrate them. What life should be, truly should be, is an effort to make sure we live so that each "last" we come across is noticed, loved, embraced, for we never know when or if we will pass this way again.

If last night was the last time I see Gabe play, or Gavin watch, or Emma walk around the playground hand in hand with another small child, or Shanna worry about Gabe, or Carrie watch it all, or Blaine talk baseball, or even Karli celebrate a  birthday cake, then it as a fine "last." After all, I wasn't guaranteed another morning to rise, another day to begin, another trip around that ol' sun.

If this is the last blog I write, well, I as I want on my tombstone, "God knows, he tried."