He may speak in their ears and terrify them with warnings.

Sometimes when you go to a website of a movie that's coming out soon there will be a disclaimer saying, "Spoiler Alert," warning readers that there may be something here that you don't want to read.  Sometimes on news websites that are covering tragedy or ruin of some country there is a video or slideshow that starts off by saying, "This video contains disturbing images.  Use caution when viewing."

This post needs that disclaimer.  I am going to talk about death.  I'm going to talk about death of loved ones and things so personal that some should not read this.  Now you know.

Job 33.  I lived that passage last night.

For God does speak—now one way, now another—
       though man may not perceive it.
 In a dream, in a vision of the night,
       when deep sleep falls on men
       as they slumber in their beds,
 he may speak in their ears
       and terrify them with warnings,
 to turn man from wrongdoing
       and keep him from pride,
 to preserve his soul from the pit,
       his life from perishing by the sword.

Last night my dad had a massive heart attack.  He was rushed to the hospital.  The family and my wife were out of town together so I was alone with him.  One of the top cardiologists was called to help.  Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything.  Shock, after shock, after shock....  CLEAR!!!  His body writhed in convulsions and I watched from behind the glass.  The ominous green line fell.  Silence.  He was gone.  My father, whom I love to the core of my being was gone.  No longer would I hear his words of wisdom, his laughter, or his signature snore.  No longer would I eat his pancake breakfast or share a beer with him on the lake.  I had a hole in my being and it burned.  The physical pain was unbelievable.  How could something hurt so terribly?  I turned and ran out of the hospital in a daze.  I collapsed to the ground and beat my fists against the pavement.  Did he know I loved him?  Did he know how much he meant to me?  Was I pleasing in my father's sight?  Was he proud?  Did my strengths outweigh my faults?  Did he know that he was the best father ever?  Did I show him love?  Did he know it, feel it, see it?

Alex came and picked me up off the ground.  We walked.  We walked down the road, the pavement ended and the dust kicked up behind our feet.  People passed by and everybody had their head down, eyes averted, each engulfed in their own sorrows.  I had my own sorrow.  How could I spare love to comfort these people?  How would I ever be able to sacrifice my own sorrow in a time like this to love and encourage them?  I couldn't.  I wouldn't.  I refused.

And they walked past, dust sticking to the tears streaming down their face, they faded.  What their sorrows were, I did now know, and I did not care; I had my own.  My father was gone.  And then I looked to my side and Alex was gone too.  Nowhere.  In my own selfishness I had lost my father and my friend...

I was not alone.  My wife lay sleeping peacefully on my left, and the soft glow from the street lights shined in the window.  I was terrified.  I was furious.  How could such a terrible dream come to me?  And the answer hit with the same force of the loss of my dad: you need to love better.  I need to love better.

Sometimes I take for granted the people in my life.  I joke and kid.  I'm sometimes cynical.  I end a conversation with a smart remark, sometimes at the expense of somebody else.  And what if that is the last I see of them?  What if there is a real-life catastrophe like the one in my dream and that person is gone?  Did I love them and treat them like they deserve, like I'm expected to?

Sometimes I do.  Sometimes I don't.  I need the first area to destroy the other.  If you happen to have, at some point, fallen in the latter, then I apologize.  I'm sorry for not loving you and treating you like you deserve to be treated.

Each day I wake up, I am given the gift of another heart beat, another breath, another blink, another moment with my wife, with my family, with my friends, and with the strangers that walk around me.  I have been given something that's precious.

I know I'm not perfect.  I know that nobody is perfect.  We all have our demons and struggles.  Sometimes God gives us a gentle nudge in the direction He wants us to go.  Sometimes He terrifies us in warnings.  Thankfully, I have been given another chance.  

Next time, I'd really prefer a gentle nudge.