Just some early morning thoughts from me to you…


“You take over.  I’m about to die, my life an offering on God’s altar.  This is the only race worth running.  I’ve run hard right to the finish, believed all the way.  All that’s left now is the shouting—God’s applause!”         2 Timothy 4: 6-8 (The Message)


No regrets. 

Our elder Granddaughter, Hannah, must have been disappointed last week when we didn’t attend her piano recital.  She knew that her Mimi and Granddaddy always tried to come to everything she was involved in. The problem was we didn’t know about her recital.  Yet, even if she had known that we didn’t know of her recital, I’m sure it wouldn’t have eased the disappointment she must have felt as she waited her turn to perform.  I was crushed.

We’re running out of moments…    

No regrets. 

That’s the underlying theme in those words spoken by the Apostle Paul to the younger Timothy.  Paul knew he was running out of time—in prison in Rome while the evil emperor Nero planned his execution.  With death impending, Paul was making certain—once again—that Timothy understood what was really important in life. 

We’re running out of time…

No regrets. 

It’s why many of my recent Saturday mornings have been devoted to a round-trip drive to Tampa to watch my two Granddaughters play softball.  That’s it—and then back home to Gainesville.  They know I’m there with their Mommy and Daddy—but more than that—I know I’m there.

And last Saturday would have never happened if I had stayed home.

The game for our younger Granddaughter, Ellie Kate, was first.  I had just fist-bumped Ellie Kate during her game and while she was standing on first base after a clean base hit.  I always wonder why other Granddads don’t go out to do that—if they’re there at all.  I suppose they think it’s silly, and so they rationalize it away by convincing themselves that they would get in the way.  Of a game of four-year olds!  Perhaps wisdom will come as maturity grows—and before sadness occurs with the realization that these times will soon be forever gone.

Anyway, three outs later, her team was on defense and she was playing second-base—with her own style and flair—by standing on second base.  I whistled to her. 

Both Ellie Kate and Hannah know my whistle.  Ellie looked my way and began to wrap her arms around herself while she was saying something I couldn’t make out.  The next time she yelled it a bit louder across the ball field as she continued to wrap her arms around herself—“Gran, I love you!”  I returned the blessing with my own comparable display of hugs with the words “Ellie, I love you too!”  She smiled her warm—“I know”—smile back, and then held up the “I love you” hand signal—thumb, index and little finger raised high.  I returned that blessing too.

Later, when kissing the girls good-bye and after holding Ellie a number of times and watching Hannah play her game, I also got to kiss Hannah’s original and long-time doll “Marjorie.”   Wouldn’t have missed it.

We’re running out of chances…      

No regrets.

So, what?  What haven’t you done that you should have done?  What haven’t you done that you have always wanted to do?  What haven’t you read that you should have read, and wanted to, years ago?  What haven’t you seen that you’ve always wanted to see?

We’re running out of years…

No regrets. 

So, who?  Who haven’t you called that you should have called?  Who haven’t you taken to lunch that you should have—long ago?  Whose lives have you left unblessed?  Who haven’t you shared the eternal love of God with? 

And what blessings do you continue to miss through all of those missed opportunities?

We’re running out of opportunities…

No regrets.

So, why not?   Why not today…and all your tomorrows?


                                                                        In His Name—Scott


Copyright 2009.  Scott L. Whitaker.  All rights reserved.