I caved. I'm not going to post-anymore or I just might get emotional.

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This is the end of an era.

Just returned from a join Good Stewards Church (Korean congregation) and Good News Chapel (my church) pastoral staff meeting. It was such a blessed time.

Sitting through it and listening to the odd mix of broken English from the older generation, broken Korean from the younger, and the Konglish that bridges the divide, was a strange experience to say the least. Not to mention I was hanging out with people my parents' generation. It totally felt like I was at one of those old bible studies my parents used to be a part of with all the children upstairs, except I was in on the adult conversation now, sitting around a huge table with coffee and cake in front of me.

But listening to them share their lives and thoughts (even in brief!) gave substance to floating faces I'd see around at church. God is so good. Even just singing "How Great is our God" and "God is so good" in our own languages made my heart swell.

I was nervous about it, but it was a great reminder that the family of God extends across the generations and cultures.

Before my grandpa died of lung cancer, either he or my grandma would walk me to school everyday for as long as I can remember. It was a short, maybe 5 minute walk or so while I was in elementary school. He would stroll along slowly behind while I ran around stepping over cracks, hopping on people's driveways, looking at this and that. He was an extremely quiet man. I don't remember much more than a few words that he'd ever said. Then at the end of each day he would come and retrieve me and we'd walk home in the same manner. Once home he'd promptly turn on the television and stretch out his legs on top of the glass coffee table, crossing the right over the left. I don't know why I remember this so distinctly.

In general that time of my life is a bit hazy now, but I do remember clearly one particular morning he broke out of the norm. As we neared the back entrance, he suddenly reached out and grasped my hand tightly and walked the last couple hundred feet by my side. I was pretty young, but even at that age I sensed my grandpa's desperation, so I didn't squirm away. We quietly walked the rest of the way until we reached the entrace where he simply said, "Go" in Korean and watched me rush onto the playground to join my friends. He didn't come back to get me that afternoon.

It was either that day or the next where he went into the hospital to begin cancer treatment where he passed away a few short months afterward. I understood so little of the situation, but in hindsight, this is maybe one of the most moving times in my life. Something that was common-place and customary was abruptly changed, forever becoming only a memory. We're never able to physically revisit these times and so I suppose that's why they're called memories.

For the past year I've worked here at Bank of America and within the first few months I had a system down. I would pass by the same people, go to break at the same times, say goodbye and drive home along the same route. Tomorrow is my last day of work... and I wonder if I understand the significance of these God-granted times or if it's going to be yet another one of those countless "hind-sight times" in my life. I have some regrets. I don't think I've properly cherished the time God has given me with people I may never see in my life again. Have I been a good reflector of God's goodness? Have I prayed enough for them? How many opportunities have I shrugged away where I could have shared a little bit more about Jesus? Too many times I chalked people off in my tiredness or chose rather to slip on my headphones and listen to an audio book than engage with neighbors.

I had a brief moment of feeling like this just last week when a member of our team was laid off for not meeting production. She was a real nice lady who had been working for the bank for over a decade. She always had a grin pasted to her face and never failed to throw a joke in my direction in the morning to brighten up the day. I guess she was notified the morning of and was escorted out with her belongings just a short half-hour after. When I passed by her desk later on, seeing many of her things sitting there made me realize again the importance of taking advantage of every moment you have with every person in such a fragile, ever-morphing world. It saddened me to see how she had ordered things all nice and neat, packs of paper carefully rubber-banded together, a stapler, post-it notes, and calculator laid within easy-reach of her chair. She had a will of her own, things that made her happy and sad, and poof, she's gone from my world, again most-likely forever. She had every intention of coming back to her nicely organized desk but it probably won't happen. Hind-sight.

Or with my parents gone to Russia, my sister and I have been cleaning out the house. Especially seeing how carefully and thoughtfully my dad arranged all the plants in the yard made me a little reminiscent the other day, though they've been gone only a little more than a month and I see them frequently on Skype. Lately I've often found myself thinking, "oh THAT'S why Dad put the rock here. It stops the sprinkler from flooding the dirt" or other similar thoughts. I took for granted the bills that were paid for the house, cars and utilities. The little place where my mom used to store unpaid bills is now where we store unpaid bills... except we see them differently than before. All hindsight again.

All these thoughtless details and moments in our lives are orchestrated sovereignly by God, with a motive behind each and every placement. And mixed in with it all are people! So that's why life with all its seemingly insignificant moments are such a gift.

When I visited my grandpa in his hospital bed after the decision to pull the life-plug had been made, I still had very few emotions. I didn't know what to feel, and in all honesty I don't think any of it felt real at the time. But I'm sure that many things were going through his head. He grasped my hand again, very hard, and I could see so much in his eyes above his fogged up breathing mask. I wonder if he had regrets or if he was thinking about all the times in his life that he took for granted. I wonder if he remembered all those days he walked me to school. These moments are His, not ours to selfishly use glued to sports all the time or to complain of tiredness. Time is constantly ticking and only God knows when every individual's hourglass drops its last grain of sand. Praise God for the gift of life itself. Take a moment through the day to step back from everything, breathe, glance up at the sky, and remember. The hum-drum droning nature of life might look different for you full time workers... the smallness and insignificance of self more clear for you young adults. And then hopefully we'll learn to be unselfish in our enjoyment of sports, rest, movies, and hobbies, glorifying God in these acceptable pass times as well.

Psalm 39
“O Lord, make me know my end
and what is the measure of my days;
let me know how fleeting I am!
  Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing before you.
Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath!"