Life's Brevity and the Seattle Airport

I don't often enough snap a wide-angle lens on the camera of my mind and look at my life from afar. From an eternal perspective. We can only look two directions in time - backwards and forwards. Of course, there's that third dimension, that razor-thin span we call the present, that vanishes as soon as it appears. The present is all we can act in; affect. Sure, I make all sorts of grand plans for the future, and I don't want to downplay the importance and wisdom of that. But we're not guaranteed anything tomorrow.

God has reminded me often over the past month how brief life can indeed be. It would have been my cousin Michael's 28th birthday tomorrow. But he only made it to 19 before he received his calling Home.

A 39 year-old physician in town died of a heart attack earlier this month. He had recently run a half-marathon and was training for another. He left a wife and three young kids. These things aren't supposed to happen. But they do. Life happens. And life, at some point, it inevitably ceases.

As I read Psalm 90 tonight, it has reminded me of life's brevity: 'Return to dust, you mortals. . .as brief as a few night hours. . .like dreams that disappear. . .like grass that springs up in the morning. . .by evening it is dry and withered. . .soon they disappear, and we fly away.'

I was hit most acutely by the shortness in life in the Seattle Airport Sunday night. As my sister Kristin & I came down the escalator I saw a gray-haired man, probably in his early 70's, fall backwards to the hard floor. My initial thought of 'what a klutz,' was quickly replaced by the true gravity of the situation. As I threw my bags down next to some chairs and hurried toward him, I was thankful that Kristin, who works on the cardiac floor in the hospital, was right behind me. As four of us (an off-duty EMT, a nurse, Kristin & myself) bent over him, two other tall men called 911. It's amazing how the world around ceased to exist in my mind as the focus was on this man. And his wife. His wife, who stood there with one hand over her mouth, said very little, other than a simple 'No', when I asked about any history of heart problems.

Try as I might, I could not find a pulse. The nurse said she was able to feel a femoral pulse, and the EMT said he had a faint carotid pulse. As difficult as it is to judge time, that ever-passing blessing of the present, probably around two minutes had gone by when it became very apparent to me that his lips were turning blue, and he wasn't breathing despite his airway being opened by the off-duty EMT. I thought of his wife, and I thought of his brain tissue. Dying. 'Seventy years are given to us! Some even live to eighty.' My inaction was becoming an unacceptable use of his time. What time I still had with him. What little time. Although the other two Good Samaritans said they could feel a pulse, when Kristin said she couldn't find one either, she & I agreed that chest compressions needed to be started. Again, I was glad she was there, having administered CPR numerous times. As she mercifully pumped hard on his chest, quite possibly cracking ribs, I was able to feel for the first time a pulse in his wrist, but only the artificial one that Kristin was creating. However blood was circulating. Another couple of minutes went by before paramedics arrived with their arsenal of tools & skills. A quick assessment by them confirmed he had no heartbeat of his own.

It took three times shocking his heart, intubation, an IV, and a central line directly into his heart to bring him back. And 25-30 minutes. Like grass that springs up in the morning. But his heart started to beat on his own, and his breathing even started to fight the intubation. He never regained consciousness that we saw, and we left some time later. We'll probably never know how he has or hasn't recovered.

As I look backward and forward in my life, it is very apparent that life is as uncertain as it is brief. A single adjective could precede most events we'll face in our earthly future: 'unexpected.' Unexpected surgery, transfer, change, accomplishment, loss, benefit, sickness, promotion, demotion, gift, death. But as life is indeed uncertain, it is also filled with challenging adjustments. Could those seemingly unsolvable problems that we too often face be in reality wonderful opportunities in disguise? Maybe that's part of what God meant when He promised abundant life. Abundant with challenges. Abundant with uncertainty. Abundant with problems. Abundant Life, brief as it is here on Earth, with Him. 'My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.' That's what I want so very badly - abundant Life, Heavenly Father-style.

I pray that you can savor these words, from Psalm 90, as I have tonight: 'Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. . .Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives. . .let our children see your glory.'