It's been one of those Hi-how-are-you?-I'm-good-how-are-you?-How-are-the-kids?-Fine-how-are-yours? relationships.

Our kids are friends. We've cheered the band on to superior ratings together, and we've watched our oldest children graduate together. Nothing deep, just friendly.

My middle child and their youngest still have several more "band" years to go, so I never thought that 2006 would be his (their dad's) last year to watch them march. Even though he wasn't yet 50, Mr. Goodwin died last night of a massive heart attack leaving behind a wife, a college freshman son, and a high school freshman son.

The Goodwin family's lives have just taken a drastic, catastrophic turn. Life will never be the same for them. There will be an empty place at the table, and there will be an empty spot in the stands come August 2007.

I'm sad, and I’m thinking.

About a month ago doctors told my husband that because of his cholesterol levels he is a prime candidate for a massive heart attack. He'll be 45 this year. That warning seems a little more ominous today. As a matter of fact, life in general seems a little more precious today. We've been given no promise of tomorrow, or even of the rest of today. I'm thinking...

I need to praise more and nag less.

I need to cherish each person I meet more, and look at their faults less.

I need to look each person that comes across my path in the eye and see their value more, and I need to spend less time worrying that such-and-such chore or task isn't getting done.

I need to hug and care more and worry less about what people think.

I need to say, "I love you" to those I love more, and assume they know it less.

I need to sing more, laugh more, cry with people more, and invest myself in others more (including my family). I need to allow Jesus to fill my cup to overflowing, and then let His love spill over onto everyone I meet more.

If you're reading this it is because you have been given the very valuable gift of now. Use it wisely. You won't get it back.