This afternoon Coach Barmore posted a picture on Facebook of Mr. Holder.

Mr. Holder was my art teacher at Cedar Creek. As a child in his classroom, I thought of him as really old. And apparently he was, because he is now 92. My memories of him involve the smell of oil pastels, the confusion over using something to draw with that was impossible to erase (a charcoal pencil), and the taste of plaster of Paris powder.

(I'm sure it wasn't supposed to get in my mouth- but it did- because right now as I sit here typing I can feel and taste that sharp, chalky tang.)

I'm sure Mr. Holder has no memory whatsoever of me. There is no doubt in my mind that I was the most nondescript, nontalented art student the poor man ever had cross his classroom threshold.

It's forty years later- and I still haven't hit one developmental milestone artistically. When I wrote curriculum for Lifeway Christian Resources, my most HATED part of the process was the art suggestions. This was where (hypothetically) we sketched out the artwork and teaching picture ideas. (In referring to my own work, I use the term "sketch" loosely.)  I'm convinced there was a group of art consultants who gathered eagerly in some ninth floor office in downtown Nashville to await the arrival of my units- because of how hilarious my drawing attempts were. They probably popped a big bowl of popcorn and settled down for a bigger laugh-fest than the latest Madea movie.

 According to me- Bible times consisted of a bunch of stick men running around  with heads that were a cross between Wolfman Jack and the Cowardly Lion. (I always gave Jesus the respect He deserved - a big arrow pointing at him with "Jesus" printed above it. Just so they would know to quit laughing for a second.)

(By the way - my lack of artistic ability is absolutely no reflection on Mr. Holder. Since he's still alive and running around out there - I just wanted to get that straight.)

The point is - I would have never guessed Mr. Holder was still alive. Yet he has lived nearly HALF his life SINCE the days I would have pegged him as ancient. Back when I would have guessed he was nearly to the finish line - he was just getting in his groove.

In sharp, sorrowful contrast - we all felt the damp cloud of hurt tonight at church. The death of our pastor is still a fresh wound, with the healing tendrils of time just beginning to grow across the memories. And now another young man joins him on the other side of the veil. Fifty years old. Young, vibrant, in the prime of his life. Except that his earthly life ended yesterday.

It's very sobering for a peer to die. When you remember riding the bus on youth trips with someone - it's hitting close to home to realize their time on Earth is over.

It makes me wonder - how differently would I live my life, TOMORROW, if I knew I was beginning the last month of my days? Would the things I consider important really deserve any priority? What would I cut out of my schedule? What would I make sure I paid attention to diligently every waking moment?

On the other hand- how differently would I live if I knew tomorrow was just the beginning of the last half of my days? Would I be quite so discouraged over starting a new career at forty-seven? Would I give in quite so often to fatigue - or work harder to condition my body to be healthy for the next fifty years?

The fact is - either of these could be the case. Any one of the doctor's appointments on my calendar could slam me in the face with unbelievably horrible news. Devastatingly terrible odds. Or....I could outlive the doctors I trust with my care. Might find myself looking for a new doctor in a few years (probably one young enough to be my grandchild).

Uncertainty. We all live with it every day. My prayer is that uncertainty will inspire me to capture every droplet of joy in every moment. "Making the best use of my time, because the days are evil." Eph. 5:16.

But may uncertainty also give me the freedom and courage to find and try new things. The perspective to face the future with anticipation. The wisdom to plan and order my days in such a way that my life is a heritage for my kids - whether they watch me for another five years or another fifty.

You can count on Matthew to introduce a sliver of humor into almost any situation:

Yesterday when I picked him up from school - he updated me on the fact that his teacher's father-in-law was very, very sick. "I know" was my answer. "No, Mama - he is really sick. Like - he's so sick that they know he's going to die. So we really need to be praying for him." I agreed  - and we discussed the situation and prayed as we continued on our way home.

Last night I received a text informing me that my friend Greg - Matthew's teacher's father-in-law - had died. I quietly passed the news along to Matthew. He sat straight up in bed and exclaimed with sincere exasperation, "What? We didn't even get to pray for him that long!"

In his mind - the illness was new. Having just learned of it - he assumed it had just begun. He was obviously concerned that he did NOT have adequate time to approach the throne about this situation before it ended.

In a world full of uncertainty - I am constantly thankful for a Lord who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

(I hate to break the news to Mr. Holder - but I don't think I will have developed much more artistically in another forty years. Guess I need to be looking for an illustrator if I'm going to keep writing...)

And the lights go out on another day here in Pizza Hut Heights.