Alive
I am alive, living, breathing; but I have not made, lived, breathed to the extent I should have at this point.
Says who?
If only I could slow life down, or, rather, if only I could make each day matter as much as it truly does matter. It's not like time and days and moments and breaths and nights are slipping away, they're fading right by. The sun rises and sets and we laugh and rest and maybe do our best to do our best. I don't as much as I'd like to. Not as much as I need to.
Who's there to save me? My savior. My wife. Woe to him who falls and has no one to catch him. Thank God.
A literal vapor. Who will remember Josh Aust? What will it take... a generation at most to be forgotten here? Why should it matter what anyone thinks when I walk into a room? It does not. It never has. Be yourself in the Lord.
Breathe. The air I have and each day I have has been given to me as a gift. As has to us all.