Before I Go To Kensico

It was definitely weird, but I enjoyed it!

At least it was enjoyable in the sense that it was new and therefore exciting. When I was in college, I took a creative writing course. The instructor, who was a published author, would often come up with such strange writing challenges that several of us students would wonder if he was joking or being serious. On a Monday morning, he strolled into the room with the usual hip smirk on his face. He had that, "I've got them now!" look as he gave us our next assignment.

"I want you to write an obituary...more specifically, I want you to write YOUR obituary!"

Needless to say, we were all stunned by the shocking words that made their way from his mouth to our ears. The first troubling thought was, "How do I write my own obituary?" Next, "How will the world remember me?" I know many people die every day and no one seems to care on a wide scale unless they are of some 'importance.'

Would my death be in vain?

If I died, who would notice, who would care, why should they?

How did I die?

Was it in some glorious life-saving escapade, or did they find me on the toilet with my pants down?

So many thoughts rushed through my head, but one was all too real and became the focus of my paper. Writing my obituary may not have made me a better writer, but it made me a better person. It forced me to come face to face with a fact that a 17 year old may not think of or even think is possible.

It made me realize my own mortality!

At such a young age, I felt invincible! I barely ever was ill, I was in great physical shape, and my mind was as sharp as it had ever been at that time. I was a young adult that hadn't even reached his prime, yet confronted with death, my death!

I read a sign that stated, "Life isn't too short; it’s the longest thing you'll ever do!"

This assignment really put into perspective, for me at least, how short a lifetime is, but how immortal a moment can be.

It came down to asking myself - How do I want to be remembered? Do I want to be an important person, or, do I dare to be an impactful person?

Before I go to Kensico (a cemetery where many Salvation Army personnel are buried), will I have had an impact on anyone or anything? Will the summation of little battles equal any significant victory for the Kingdom of Heaven? If not, then my 'importance' will have outweighed my impact, and I will have failed and nothing can be done to change it. We find a great example of this in Luke 16:19-31, the Rich Man and Lazarus.

The rich man had lived a life of comfort and eventually died. He went to Hell and wanted to be able to return if only for a short time to warn his brothers of what awaits them if they do not change. He found out that his time to impact those on earth was limited. He could not have another chance to make a difference in the lives of those he loved.

He lost his opportunity; I pray I take full advantage of mine! I have decided that my life will not be 78.64 years of self, because the uncomfortable, yet definite truth is that the life of 'self' will end. However, if the average life span remains 78.64, then I can multiply opportunities by each day and share those 28,703.6 moments having an impact on others! There will always be others.

In my life, there have been accomplishments and failures, but more importantly, there have been experiences and moments. Lord, make my moments Holy!

Written by Lt. Darell Houseton

Newark Ironbound