One Life

I’ve always heard that a cat has nine lives. I believe it. I have robbed C.C., our feisty female feline, of at least three or four by near misses with my car in the driveway. Add in the occasional “Oh, I’m sorry; did I step on your tail?” with the “Oops, I didn’t mean to slam your paw in the door.” and our cat is living on borrowed lives.

Would it not be grand to know that we humans had nine lives to expend upon the earth? I can see it now. “Oh, I’ll just have fun in school this year. If I don’t study or pay attention in class, I can do better in my next life. Anyway, I’ll be in fifth grade eight more times anyway.”

Or, “I am going to live this life without God. I am not going to waste my time reading the Bible and praying. I’ll wait and do all that in my ninth life.”

Or, “I just want to know what it’s like to be high. If I “fry” my brain, who cares? It’s not the quality of life, it’s the quantity, and I have nine in all.”

Okay, I admit it. The reasoning is absurd and beyond the realm of rational thinking; but before totally dismissing my scenarios, consider the following: How many times do we rationalize our behavior and live our one-and-only life in the same manner?

Even though we cognitively acknowledge our one orbit “on this celestial ball,” our actions show otherwise. How many times have we said, “If I could live that part of my life over again, I would do it differently”? Many times, such a statement comes after years of experience and wisdom that only age can supply, and the person sees his earlier years from a more mature perspective. More often than not, though, we possess the wisdom to do the right thing in the present time; but we knowingly choose rather to be lazy, lax, or apathetic (you pick the adjective) and do the wrong thing or nothing at all.

Let me give you some examples from my own experience. My mother was notorious for accepting Christmas gifts of fine lingerie only to store the silk gowns and robes in her clothes chest to use if she “ever had to go to the hospital.” When she died and family members were disposing of her possessions, we found many beautiful items that could have been enjoyed throughout her life, but rather she chose not to use them.

I have taught high school English for over thirty years. I can safely say that in every class there were at least one or two students who were just drifting through their high school experience. They seemed to be in a perpetual daze when it involved classroom participation, study habits, or motivation to master the material. Their lackadaisical attitude in class caused me to say on many occasions, “Remember, I’m not taking the test on Friday. You are!” Another translation might be, “You have but one chance to do well in this class. When the semester is over, the grade you have earned is the grade you will receive.” But somewhere in the recesses of those students’ minds and personalities, the only-one-life idea has not sunk in. Their actions say, “I’ll do better next time.” In school, students are allowed to repeat a failed course; but in life, once is all we have.

How many times do we choose not to use our talents for the Lord, not to ask God for that blessing, not to say that word of kindness, not to do our best at school or in our job? Are we waiting for that ninth life with the hopes of doing it the right way then? Are we wasting the few precious years that are afforded us by a loving and merciful God?

As a child, I was always fascinated by Noah’s grandfather Methuselah, the oldest person whose age is mentioned in the Bible. (Genesis 5:27: “And all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred sixty and nine years: and he died.”) While our attention is often on the 969 years that he lived, we must not neglect to notice the last three words of this verse, “and he died.” Even though his life was long, it was still only one life. Even Jesus, who came to this earth and lived in sinless perfection, had but one life to expend on the cross.

We all have but one chance to get it right: one shot at the target, one lap around the track, one strike at the ball, one stroke of the pen.

If C. C. continues to live in our household, her days are probably numbered. Who knows, she may be on her last life. So am I, my first and my last and my only. May each of us live our one life as though it were our last.