Finding Momentum

Look up, look up, look up, look up. Life is far too beau­ti­ful, far too valu­able to waste it on your­self. It is a gift; you are to love, live, give breathe. We were made with too many holes, I think. They accu­mu­late, these scrapes and bruises as we teeter off bicy­cles, miss appoint­ments, exhale molten words, savor bit­ter­sweet kisses and sing lul­la­bies. The holes always accu­mu­late, they always mul­ti­ply. It’s a dis­ease, this keep­ing up with the Jone­ses of Amer­ica, and our hearts sink fur­ther and fur­ther when we under­stand these holes go deeper than we had believed.

There was once a man, sixty years from zero, with so many holes he could no longer be seen. Nobody mourned for him.

May you have life, and may you have it to the Full.
May we find that the great­est sat­is­fac­tion is found in our great­est Delight.
Of one who gave Him­self for us,
Full of holes, big ones, lit­tle ones, heart-wrenching ones,
And filled them wholly with him­self, per­fect Love

Oh, look up, for life is too short to blow it all.