Pay Attention

What would you say to someone if you knew it was the last time you’d have a chance to say anything to them?

I wrote that on Facebook the day I learned that I would no longer be able to write one of my “kids”. I sponsor two children through Compassion International, and I’ve been writing to two others through the correspondence program—where one person/group pays for the sponsorship, but asks that someone else writes to the child. Every once in a while a sponsor has to discontinue the sponsorship. If there is a correspondent linked to the child, they’re given the option to pick up the financial aspect of sponsorship, but it’s not required. That’s what happened with Luis. He had a sponsor, I wrote to him. Since I’m not able to pay for a third child, I had to say goodbye to him. And I’m glad that Compassion is allowing me to send him a farewell letter.

But what would you say to a child that you’ve been writing to; praying for; for several months, but this will be the last letter they receive from you? I chose to focus more on the future. The last thing I wanted him to hear from me is how precious he is to God, and there’s hope for his future. There’s a reason for his existence; God has a special purpose for him to fulfill, and God’s given him just the right set of skills and abilities to be able to complete it. I encouraged him to work hard in school, to honor his parents and be kind to those in his community.

In a way, I consider it a blessing that I knew this would be the last thing I would say to him this side of heaven—unless God provides an earthly meeting. But what if I didn’t know it would be my last letter? What about the other three kids? Doesn’t each letter mean just as much? It should. I write them about once a month. So, even if it isn’t my last letter to them, it still has to carry them until they receive the next one. And—at any day, I could get a call saying that Nells’s sponsor is discontinuing, or that Gabriel and Yuni are moving away from the area. Each letter needs to count.

But, thinking back to my Facebook posting—at the time, I put a disclaimer at the end: (not to worry anyone, no one’s dying). I had no idea that within a few days I would get a call saying that my aunt had died suddenly. Now, distance separates my immediate family and my extended family on both sides. We don’t communicate back and forth much. Sadly, I write my sponsored kids more than anyone I’m actually related to.

Probably because I got two notices within a few days of each other, I paid more attention, and started looking for a common thread. It got me thinking about everyday encounters—family members, coworkers, people we meet at the bus stop or the grocery store. In some instances, chances are we’ll never see them again anyway; it was just a “chance” meeting in passing. Other people we see more frequently. But just as a funeral is a time when many people reflect on their own mortality, life actually is fleeting. What if we treat each encounter like it was the last time we’d see that person? What would you say?