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I asked my good pastor friend Bobby McKay to write a guest blog today. Bobby sent me this little meditation out of the blue a day or so ago, and I was so impressed and moved I wanted y’all to experience it, too.

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“Some folks remember the first time; some can’t forget the last.”

From the song Come On Come On by Mary Chapin Carpenter

I buried my last grandparent a month ago. Well, “buried” is not an altogether accurate description. A graveside service was not requested by the family so there was no formal gathering of folded chairs covered with the weird felt-like substance and no funeral home tent. Also absent was the green turf covering the ground. Minus the public internment, the outcome was just the same. The man in which I was partly named after was dead after nearly 90 years on planet earth. He was buried within a short distance of where he grew up, lived, left, returned to, and left again throughout his life. This time would be the last stop for his physical body; not too far from his parents and his wife of nearly 60 years who died 10 years earlier.

I was asked and elected to share a message for one simple reason: to honor my grandfather. Being the only grandson, I knew if I did not, I would have regret. My words in their entirety were short, totaling less than 20 minutes. The service was done in a seamless and anticlimactic fashion. I was able to get through the service without tears.

For me, tears (if they come) are always much later and in solitude. I am more cerebral in my grief. Grief is to be mostly processed, not proliferated.

I did not grow up near any of my family from either my mother or father’s side. I probably saw my grandparents on average 5 times a year. Cousins were people I saw on Thanksgiving and Christmas and aunts and uncles were almost like strangers to me.

However, there was one thing that has come to my realization within the last few days. There would be no more Christmases with the family members I grew up with. With the last passing of my grandparents, there would be no more gatherings, nothing to draw the tribe together in the future.

For my grandfather and for me, unbeknownst to either of us last year, this year will be the first Christmas with the presence of an empty chair (or in his case, recliner) in his house. Of course, no one enjoys going into a Christmas season looking through the lens of sadness or loneliness. Rather, we avoid such melancholy by often burying ourselves in busyness. Some of which is enjoyable. Parties, parades, and presents all have their place, but something about getting older I find each Holiday a bit more bittersweet than the previous.

Why must we lose such simple innocence?

Adding to this is the fact this will probably be the last year my youngest daughter sees Christmas with the eyes of a child. She still has trouble sleeping at night at just the thought of Christmas morning. Why must we lose such simple innocence?

This Christmas is setting itself up to be one of the heaviest in my life. If the doctors are correct, this will also be the last Christmas my dad will attempt to enjoy. While the details are too many to detail, his health is declining at a rapid pace. For him, it could be his last Christmas.

So, I am wrestling with how to make it memorable for him, but mostly for my children (his grandchildren). How would you approach Christmas if you knew it was your last? How do you approach Christmas if it is your first without a loved one? Is the answer to those two questions the same or entirely different? I think of the word “guarded.”

If I knew I would be entering my last Christmas season, I feel as I would carefully measure both my words and my time with great precision.

My youngest daughter loves Christmas music…all year long. I believe I wouldn’t complain about hearing the familiar jingles if I knew it could be the last time doing so. I would listen to my oldest daughter sing, but this time with my eyes closed and thank God for the talents she has been given. I think I would enjoy the town’s parade a bit more. I would drink an extra cup of Amy’s homemade hot chocolate. I wouldn’t even be bothered by the mass of people shopping for gifts. I surmise Advent would take on a more holy and personal tone in my expressions of faith.

I may or may not spend time thinking about the gifts I were to give, but I am sure I would be more concerned with the memories I would leave. I would sit down and have a good cry…and a good laugh. I would call some folks, hug some, and tell a few how much I loved them and thank them for loving me. I would eat the veal cutlets at Crystal Grill in Greenwood, Mississippi. I would go back to Standing Pine Baptist Church and remember it was there Jesus became real to me for the first time.

I would tell Amy I loved her and ask her to forgive me for the times I have ever hurt her or disappointed her. I would find a way to take Amy and the girls to the beach in Seaside, Florida. It is a place that is not my favorite, but I would cherish seeing them happy and smile one more time. I would make sure my life insurance premium was paid. I would tell my daughters they are my greatest gifts to the world. I would tell them nothing can bring you peace like Jesus and He is always faithful even when we are not. I would tell them when they chose to marry; if the man loves God, He will love you.

Maybe if I knew I was staring at my last Christmas in the face I would discover there is no real need to worry because it changes nothing. The opinions and expectations of others would diminish as my mortality began slipping away.

I think I would go hear more sermons and less time preparing and preaching them. Truthfully, I am reaching to guess anything I would do with my remaining time.

For each of us, there will come a time when we have celebrated our last Christmas and for the vast majority, we will not know when that will be. Maybe the key is to live and love as if each Holiday could be our last or at least be fully involved in the present tense by engaging each of the five senses God bestowed upon us.

At the same time, we should be mindful of many this Christmas as they navigate through these days for the first time without a loved one.

There is no guide for such things. There is no box to check to indicate you agree with the terms and conditions. You make the way by going forward, cherishing what you have and expressing thanks for the things and people that are no longer at arm’s length.

Life is to be lived, pondered and as much as possible; enjoy. It is a gift and there is no return policy. A life without serving others is one that is wasted.

In some of His last recorded words recorded in Scripture, Christ tells us He is the First and the Last. That means He is eternal. It is beyond our understanding to grasp the fact He is both indwelling the past and future at the same time. While such theological truths may escape our intellect, it does not mean it should escape our interest.

For most believers, knowing the fact that Christ is the Beginning and the End results in a great deal of comfort. To recognize He was there with us from the formation in the womb until we draw our last breath provides us with the hope needed to trust Him literally with life and death.

Let us not forget Christ Himself wants to be real to each of us. He desires to be with us much more than we desire to be with Him.

The real test is not the First and the Last aspects of Jesus’ benevolence, but rather it is the middle we wrestle with. It is the in-between times and seasons of our life where we so desperately need Jesus to be real to us. Let us not forget Christ Himself wants to be real to each of us. He desires to be with us much more than we desire to be with Him. His incarnation and atonement prove that.

It is in these “middle times” where we discover how much we really love Christ and how well we choose to worship Him in uncertain times.

The middle is where we spend most of our lives. Just as you have only one birthday, you will have onlyone death day. The middle is filled with weddings, birthday parties, vacations, school plays, soccer games, church services, traffic, entertainment, sunrises, sunsets, and a million other events, when collected, equal a life lived. Perhaps you go into your last Christmas like you should any other day: thankful and keenly aware that while our days may indeed be limited, they are of great importance.

This Christmas, thank God for the middle and celebrate Christ and the life provided byHim.

When you and I die, our life will be reduced by some to a couple of dates in an obituary. The first breath and the last one. This Christmas, thank God for the middle and celebrate Christ and the life provided by Him. While you are celebrating, take in every moment. Enjoy each moment as if it were your first…or your last. You won’t regret it.