The Last Time

I’m a very sentimental person.

I’m a very sentimental person with a phenomenal memory. Now, granted, I will forget why I walked in a room, forget what I was saying mid-sentence. But by way of conversations and relationships, I’m a memory hoarder. I can’t even help it.

I have a stash of keepsakes from high school, college and kids. Photo albums galore. (Remember when you used to take pictures with cameras and take the film to get developed and pick up prints?) I never made Caroline a baby book (sorry, kiddo), but I have lots of pictures and wrote down a number of milestones and funny stories from when she was a baby.

And in the last year or so, I’ve become increasingly aware of the brevity of life and the importance of seizing the day. I regularly remind myself and Brad when we’re in the middle of something special so we can enjoy the moment and remember it. “Don’t miss this,” I tell us. And we don’t.

Sydney and Caroline are both in girl scouts. Every spring they have a father-daughter dance and it has always a REALLY big deal around here. The dress, the hair, the makeup. It’s all very intense. (Then everybody leaves and Beau and I can eat nachos and watch Lord of the Rings in peace for a few hours.)

As the dance began approaching this year, emails started circulating among the moms in Sydney’s troop. One by one, the girls started dropping out. Nobody’s going this year. Not sure why. Maybe they’re twelve and it’s not cool anymore. But Sydney doesn’t want to go if her friends aren’t going, and Brad was fairly traumatized by this. It was always a special time for them and something he looked forward to every year. I tried to gently talk him through it.

“You knew at some point it would be the last one,” I told him.“I know, but still,” he grumbled. “How about a little heads up?”
“Oh, come on. You never get a ‘heads up’ on this kind of thing.”

In moments of clarity, I soak up potential last times. We’re past the days where I can pick up Caroline. I mean, I could, if there was an emergency, but I wouldn’t get far. So there’s probably already been the last time I picked her up. Her bedtime routine involves me reading to her, snuggling with her, sometimes a song or two. But the days of her falling asleep in my arms are getting fewer and farther between. One of these times will be the last time.

I look ahead to growing old with Brad. There will someday be the last time we sleep in the same bed, the last time we make out on the couch, the last time we walk up those steep stairs in our house. And I wonder if I’ll know when it’s happening.

And the truth is, old age may not be what ushers in the last time for any of those things. We’re not guaranteed 80 years on this earth. Not to be morbid, but tragedy happens every day. Every time I kiss my family goodbye when they leave for work/school in the morning could be the last time.

I can say with almost 100% certainty that there has already been a last time that I did a cartwheel, the last time I looked in the mirror without pondering what I wish I could fix, the last time I got on a plane without worrying.

I remember growing up, my dad tried to get out in front of that stuff. As my older sister and I worked our way through our college years, Dad started to get a little panicky about our annual summer vacations to the beach. He’d walk around the house saying, “This is The Last Summer. The last summer we’ll all be together, just us, as a family. This is The Last Summer.” (Actually, there were at least three ‘last summers,’ but props to him for being aware that those days were numbered.)

First times and last times are equally precious. But last times sneak up on you without you knowing. You always know when something is the first time and you cherish it, but you rarely realize when something is the last time until it’s already passed.

I was running a little low on inspiration the other day and so I put on some Andrew Peterson when I got in the car. Hadn’t listened to him in a long time and I wasn’t sure if it would still work. It did.

I’ve been listening to his music off and on for the last decade or so. Probably seen him in concert five or six times. And with all the massive changes and upheavals that have taken place in my life during that time, when I turn on his music, no matter where I am, I feel like I’m home.

I put it on ‘shuffle’ (always a little thrilling when you don’t know what’s coming next, but you know that you’ll like it) as I was driving to work that morning. I let the lyrics stir my heart and tap into the deeper places of my faith where inspiration can hide.

One of my all-time favorite songs of his is After the Last Tear Falls. And it talks about the last time. Lots of last times.

At some point on this earth, there will be the last tear to ever fall. The last bullet to ever be fired. The last lie. The last broken relationship. The last cruel words. The last injustice. The last failed dream. The last death.

And when it’s all over, there will still be love.

First Corinthians says three things remain: faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love. And here’s the thing. Love is the greatest because it will last for all eternity. At some point, faith and hope won’t be necessary anymore. We will see Him. We will touch Him. His blinding, all-consuming light will leave no hidden cranny to conceal a shadow of doubt. And we will finally KNOW. With every fiber of our being, we will know.

Just thinking about all those lasts fills my heart with longing for His return. I want to go Home. But at the same time, we need more time. There are still so many who don’t know Him, there is still much work to be done. And as much as I want to be finished with the sorrows and struggles of this life and rest in my Savior’s arms, I feel an urgent feeling to stay and keep fighting.

God is looking at the whole picture of eternity right now. He sees all the firsts and lasts in our lives. And He can see the very lasts of this world. The last broken heart. The last cancer diagnosis. The last terrorist attack. The last miscarriage. The last kidnapping. The last murder.

Last times are happening all around me all the time. And I need to live ready. Not in a morose or anxious way. But with the sober reality that every moment, every conversation, every encounter, every deed done for the Kingdom counts. And while I grieve the lasts in my own life, I look forward to the ultimate lasts.

Brad and Sydney were later discussing not going to the dance this year. They decided to still get dressed up and go to a fancy dinner. But Brad wanted one more thing.

“And at some point that night, can you and I dance to Butterfly Kisses?” he asked hopefully.
“No, Dad, that would be weird.”
“But I didn’t know last year would be the last time and I’m just not ready for that to have been the last time.”
“It wasn’t the last time, Dad,” Syd reminded him, matter-of-factly. “That’s what we’re going to dance to at my wedding.”

The joy of the beautiful firsts and lasts on this earth is just practice, the warm up for the Real Dance at the Great Wedding Celebration in that wonderful place where all the firsts and lasts disappear into vastness of eternity with our Savior.

So let’s open our eyes and be watchful for potential lasts in our lives. Let us soak them up in the moment, grieve them when they pass, and then remember the all the amazing firsts that await those who know Him on the other side of this life.