Hug The People You Love

Yesterday three local teenagers died in a car accident. The school found out today that another local teen passed away from unrelated causes.

Death is scary.

It doesn't matter who you are or what you believe. At some point in your lifetime, death has scared you. As a Christian, I have the comfort that I'll go to heaven when I die. For many people, this comfort doesn't exist. That is terrifying. It's something that isn't nice to think about. But it's a real fear.

Death is the one thing that has happened or will happen to 99.99% of the entire population.

Five minutes before the car crash, I was on the same road driving with my brother.

Five minutes.

It could have been me.

It could have been anyone I knew.

I didn't know any of the teens that died, but some of my friends were close to them and I see the pain that they're going through.

Today I've been thinking about the parents of the kids. The siblings. The best friends. People who loved them. People who were mad at them that now feel guilty.

I went to each one of the teen's Facebook pages. They were filled with 'You'll be missed', 'You were a wonderful person', 'I love you. We all love you.'. I'm going to make a conscious effort to tell people things like this. While they're alive. Telling someone that they matter, that you care about them, that's important. Even if they know it already. Your parents know you love them, but do they get to hear you say it?

A year or so ago I watched a documentary about Zach Sobiech. Zach was a teenager who died of cancer. He also wrote a beautiful song that became extremely popular after he passed away. Zach said something in his video that really stuck with me. He talked about how teenagers have a sort of 'immortality complex'. Not in the sense of 'I can do anything without dying' (even though I know some people who do think this) but in the 'see you tomorrow' or 'I'm having a party next month, see you there!' sense. 

Things like war and sickness take out many, many people each day. When I used to see the headlines, it didn't affect me. It was  sad, but it didn't hit me. When something like this happens - a local tragedy, that hits me. And it hits people I know. A lot of people. 

I've been thinking about everyone who dies. From fighting, accidents, disease. It's incredibly sad. Each person has someone who loves them. Parents, friends, a spouse. Those news headlines are more than just a scroll on the bottom of a screen or ink on a page. It's hundreds of mourning people. People in pain. And it matters. It matters a lot.

Last summer, my family and I went to Tennessee and toured the Shiloh National Park. In that park is a cemetery. A massive cemetery. Thousands of young men who gave up their lives. The Battle of Shiloh was the first major battle of any war that had a death tally so large. When I walked through that cemetery, I thought about each death. The idea of death at such a magnitude wasn't comprehensible.

The number of deaths each day has desensitized the world to the actual value of each of those human lives.

None of us know when we're going to die. Even someone who has been told they have two months to live knows when they're going to die.

They could be struck by lightening. They could be hit by a bus.

As a Christian, I know that when I die, it's not going to be sad for me. It's going to be wonderful. Heaven is a beautiful thing to look forward to. But that doesn't mean I can't feel sad or feel pain when someone else dies.

Jesus wept. Jesus felt sadness. Sadness is okay. It's okay to miss someone.

I'm not saying this to be depressing.

I'm saying this because this is a wake-up call for me. A wake-up call to live my life. Actively live my life. A wake-up call to stop feeling sorry for myself. To make sure people know I love them.

A helpful reminder