“Life is a precious gift —
a gift we often take for
granted until it is
threatened.”
Lecrae

I don’t think I’ve ever had a true “near death experience.” In fact, only one occasion comes to mind which make me think that I might have been closer to death than I realized at the time.

It happened in June 1971. Playing in a pick-up softball game on campus after the last final exam of my junior year at Saint Ignatius College Prep, I misjudged a hard-hit ground ball. It smacked the inside of my left ankle. The pain was considerable, exceeded only by my embarrassment. After the game, a friend offered me a ride home. As I climbed into the back seat (behind the driver’s seat) of his two-door Ford Thunderbird, he thought I was completely settled. Actually, I was carefully bringing my left leg into the car. The car door crushed my ankle, the same one hit by the softball, between the door and the frame of the car. At that point, the pain was excruciating.

I did my best to conceal my injury to my parents, as I was scheduled to leave for a six-week trip to Jamaica on June 24th. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize that trip. Fortunately, on June 17th, my mother noticed that I was favoring my left ankle when I walked and inquired about it. I tried to brush it off, but she wasn’t having any of it. She wanted to see it.

The next thing I knew, I was on my way to Saint Mary’s Hospital, where I spent the next ten days in isolation. The diagnosis was a blood clot with staph infection. Needless to say, I didn’t leave for Jamaica on the 24th. The doctor told my parents later that week that if I had successfully concealed the injury and gone to Jamaica, there was a good chance that I would have lost my leg or my life.

I got to thinking about all this yesterday afternoon when I happened to see one of my neighbors. Three months ago, just a little after midnight, I woke up to the sound of emergency vehicles outside my bedroom window. My elderly neighbor was having a medical crisis. Knowing that her two sons are not local, I went over to check on her. Paramedics were preparing to transfer her to Kaiser Hospital in Santa Clara. The look on her face was one of fear. I assured her that I would close up her home for her.

I returned home and told Kathy I was going over to Kaiser. I didn’t want my neighbor to be there alone in that condition. As it turns out, I was not able to see her at the hospital that night and I had not seen her since that time — until this afternoon.

She told me that she had just returned to her home after a stay at an assisted living facility. We had a wonderful conversation about health, hearts, and kidney function (she’s on dialysis now). She was out of her home for three months dealing with the various health issues. As we spoke, she kept telling me to appreciate every day, as we never know how many days we have left in our life. She’s 87 years old and noticeably more frail than I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know her medical prognosis, but her mindset is impressive. She wants to make the most of each and every day remaining in her life.

It’s true: life IS a precious gift. It’s unfortunate that so many fail to truly appreciate their life until they have a brush with death. It is for this reason that the image above caught my attention. Today only happens once… make it amazing!