I’ve been given an extra four-and-a-half years of life. By most statistical accounts I should probably have been killed in April 2003 when I had a full-blown seizure while driving my SUV down a windy, twisty parkway. The car hit 80, maybe 90, and we crashed and we survived. Then I was told I had a horrible kind of brain tumor that would soon wipe me away.
But here I am.
And today I am more aware of my mortality than ever before. I understand the last years have been a gift. I understand that I have no idea how many more there will be. Five? Ten? Will I defy the odds and make 20? 50? Like you, I have no idea.
Nothing seems like enough. Write more? Give more? Preach more? Criticize more? Love more? Sacrifice more? Travel more? None of it is enough – none of it amounts to a worthy life. None of it seems worthy of the gift that life is.