Today

The talk at our house these days is mostly about weddings and marriage. Specifically, the upcoming May wedding and marriage of our only daughter, Rachel to her fiance, James. Together, Rachel and I bought her dress, ordered the flowers, and booked the reception site. Best I can tell, we're ready.

Yesterday, a bridal shower was given in Rachel's honor. Attending the shower gave me the chance to meet, for the first time, an assortment of her friends and former co-workers. Among the group was a pretty blond named Beth. The shower was at hosted her house. I loved Beth's home. It was warm and open. Had a great kitchen and a big back yard. It was full of color and light, decorated with photos of Beth and her husband.

I'm talking tons of photos. They hung over the mantle. Lined the hall. Sat on shelves and tables. Papered the walls. Everywhere you looked, there were photos of Beth and her smiling husband.

Towards the end of the shower, Beth's husband arrived home from where ever it is wise husbands go during showers. He was a good-looking guy and Beth greeted him warmly. From across the room I watched the two of them interact. What I saw was a tenderness that was almost palpable. In the smallest of their gestures and shared looks, I could see evidence that these two treasured each other. Their relationship struck me as special somehow.

Later, I learned why.

Beth's husband is in the Air Force. He leaves for Iraq in one month for a year-long tour of duty. With the days on the calendar flying past, I can only imagine that there's little time for pettiness, for irritation, for the isolating of oneselves that long married couples tend to do. For them, every day must feel like a gift, one not to be wasted.

Just before we left, I told Beth's husband that I appreciate him for his service. He brushed off my compliment, said it was just what he did.

What I didn't say, what I couldn't say, was thank you for something else. I wish I'd told him and his wife Beth thank you for reminding me that every day is precious. That those we love should be treated with tenderness, gentleness, and and warmth every single minute of every single day. That there's not enough time to take people for granted, to be irritated over small things, to withhold love, appreciation and affirmation.

These things I know. These things I've always known. Yet how easy it is for me to treat today like there will always be a thousand tomarrows. A thousand more chances to speak my love. A thousand more mornings and a thousand more nights.

Someday there won't be a tomarrow.

My hope and my prayer and my resolve, yet again, is to live today as if this was the day before that last tomarrow.