What would happen if every person on the earth vanished?

That’s an interesting question and if you’re looking for a visual answer, may I suggest you visit the History Channel: http://www.history.com/content/life_after_people - a great show and quite eye opening. I’d also like to suggest a look into Hashima Island, off the coast of Japan, for a look at what has already happened versus a computer generated image of what is likely to.

The show helped me realize that what man has created will eventually burn, fade, fall, erode. In other words, it will disappear. What man spent lifetimes creating, cleaning, maintaining, perfecting, tweaking, restoring, and generally fussing over will not last. Depressing, ain’t it?

I’ve spent so much of my adult life trying to provide a good life for my family and what I’m beginning to realize is this one, very simple truth: I can’t provide a good life for my family. I can only live a good life with my family.

I can work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and make a crap load of money. I could cash my check, go to the store, buy a board game, and deliver it to my home. But if I’m not there to play that game, I provided a board game, not a good life.

The earth will cover and devour all the "stuff" man created. All that will likely remain will be the individual elements from which that "stuff" was made. What are you made of?

If you have not seen “The Lake House”, I think I would recommend it. I say that I think I would because, although I didn’t see the entire movie, I saw a specific part that made me believe it could be one worth renting. Here’s what I’ve been able to put together, much in thanks to IMDB www.imdb.com – a wealth of information for almost any movie ever made:


On Valentines Day 2006, Kate (a doctor in Chicago) escapes to a lake house after a man dies in her arms from injuries sustained when he was hit by a bus. She somehow starts writing to and receiving letters from Alex (an up and coming architect). The two eventually realize they are communicating 2 years apart, with only the mailbox to connect them.

Determined to bridge the distance and unravel the mystery behind their extraordinary connection, they tempt fate by arranging to meet. Alex makes a reservation in 2004 for a date in 2006, but only Kate appears. Hurt and confused Kate retreats, believing she will never have happiness until she lets this relationship end. She writes Alex a letter urging him to move on, too. She tells him about her Valentine's Day experience and how it made her realize how important it is to live today because tomorrow is never a promise. She confesses that she needs to live her own life, outside the shadow of this incredible relationship that, seemingly, can never be. She asks Alex not to contact her again.

On Valentines Day 2008, Kate visits an architect’s office to talk about renovations to an apartment she is planning to purchase. Kate notices a beautiful drawing of the lake house where she and Alex “met” and asks who did it. She finds out that the architect she has hired is Alex’s brother and that Alex is dead. Kate quickly realizes why Alex never met her at the restaurant: he was the man who died in her arms. She rushes to the lake house and frantically writes a note for Alex. Don't go looking for her, she begs him. Wait for another two years and come to the lake house, instead. She puts the note into the mailbox and raises the flag.

But Alex has gone off to find her - and sees her sitting there in Daley Plaza on that unseasonably mild Valentine's Day in 2006. As he is about to step into the street, he raises his hand and rereads the note from Kate, begging him to wait for her. Alex wisely decides to remain on the sidewalk, splitting himself off from the original timeline.

Kate kneels by the mailbox, crying. Soon she sees a vehicle arriving beyond the high grass and then a figure walking toward her on the gravel path, and it turns out to be Alex. "You waited!", she cries as they begin to kiss each other.

It made me wonder how many times I wanted something outside my time - relationships, jobs, material things, opportunities - perhaps that could have all been better had I waited. I wonder how many buses I let stop what could have been something really spectacular.

On Saturday, April 4, 2009, I ran my very first 5k. Okay, so I jogged my first 5k. Alright, I completed my first 5k. I digress.

For those who know me, the simply fact that I agreed to walk/run/jog/climb/crawl/exert physical effort of any kind for 3.1 miles is a miracle of miracles, but something bigger happened that day and I want to share it with you. Both of you.

I didn’t have great expectations for finishing the race at anything other than a walker’s pace. I rather expected to start strong and burn out - convinced that I would cross the finish line and collapse.

On race day, my friend, Erin, met me in Columbia and was her usual excited, happy-to-be-alive self. When my inner Eeyore flared, she smiled and gently assured me that not only would I finish but that she (a ½ marathon runner) would be there with me the entire way. Even though she was capable of finishing the race in ½ the time, she stayed with me and patted me on the back, kept my motivation 3.1 minded, and encouraged me to the finish. She cheered for me, laughed with and at me, talked about spit (a subject for another blog), and was generally excited about being in the same time and place as me. She was, in other words, a tremendous companion and the best cheerleader I’ve ever known. Especially while jogging.

Later, I was reminded of a verse that has never made more sense than it did in the light of Saturday, April 4, 2009:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us
throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let
us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. —Hebrews 12:1

Erin showed me what is possible when someone comes along side you and says, “I’ve been where you are and I know you can do this. I’m right here with you all the way. I’ll never let the distance or the obstacles prevent me from cheering you to the finish of your, no, our race." Thanks, Erin.