Today I am posting the first in a series of real-life scenarios focusing on the brevity of our lives and its inevitable, often seemingly premature, end.

The overall title is a Latin phrase roughly translated as “Remember you will die.” Basically, it has been used over the centuries as a concept that encourages reflection on mortality and the fleeting nature of life, and to live each day to the fullest. It is more common to see these days than you might think. A young man I met at the gym had the statement tattooed along his forearm in a large, all caps Old English type font. Memento mori coins, pendants and medallions can be found online for anyone too squeamish or shy to display it permanently on their skin but willing enough to keep the thought close at hand.

It is not a Carpe Diem mentality which boasts about enjoying the pleasures of the moment without any concern for the future. Instead, we are counseled to number our days so that we may live wisely (Psalm 90:12). This means using our awareness of life’s brevity in order to make wise choices, prioritize what truly matters, and to live a meaningful life. 

The purpose then is not to develop a morbid fascination with death, but rather to encourage a more meaningful and purposeful life by acknowledging its brevity. By familiarizing individuals of their own unavoidable mortality, it can help prioritize what truly matters and to live accordingly. Isn’t that what the Bible does?

Actually, I could cite many verses in sacred scripture that focus on exactly such advice and even with warnings about the transitory nature of human existence. In fact, the notion has been over time a common theme in Christian thought, particularly during the Medieval period, as a reminder of the Day of Judgment. The afflicted Job in his suffering laments, “How frail is humanity! How short is life, how full of trouble! We blossom like a flower and then wither. Like a passing shadow, we quickly disappear” (Job 14:1).

Like a passing shadow. O that we would see our busy days with such perception.

The following narrative affirms how quickly and unexpectedly the end can come.

IN THE NEWS: The Kearney Hub newspaper headline reads: “Retired Business Owner Is Crash Victim.”  But there’s so much more to it, beyond the official details of the police report. There’s always the human, heartbreaking side of these events that put a gulp in your throat for the unlucky victims and the grieving survivors who are left to deal with the consequences of a wrong turn.

Betty Beavers and a friend were just feet away from driving into the Little Caesar’s Pizza parking lot for a Fourth of July weekend lunch date when her 1997 Lincoln Town car was broadsided by Tim Trompke and his ’99 Chevy pickup. The Lincoln, built solid like a luxury tank, was smashed into a wedge shape, pinning Betty inside in an ugly twist of brokenness. The pickup continued on sideways, stopped finally by a light pole.

Emergency personnel transported both drivers to Good Samaritan’s, just down the street on Second Avenue where Betty was pronounced dead. She was 69. Trompke was treated and released.

I was there that Sunday with my Kearney family on our way to pick up some lunch too, after church. We passed by the accident scene a couple hours after the dust had settled and the screaming stopped. Talking to some other onlookers in a grocery store parking lot we learned the sad news that there was a fatality involved. Looking at the wreckage, it seemed so obvious that some reckless young Kearney cowboy had probably been high on something, and innocent folks yet again would pay the price for his poor choices.

Not really. The accident report later indicated that eastbound 52-year-old Trompke suffered a seizure while driving, lost control of his vehicle and jumped the median, impacting the westbound Lincoln and its occupants. It happened at 10:48 on a pleasant Sunday morning. Isn’t it odd that in this life, so often timing is everything?

Postscript:  Neither Ms. Beavers nor Trompke were wearing seat belts.