Am I going to waste this one life I've been given?

I ran to the grocery store, hot and sweaty from cleaning the church, hoping to get what I needed without running into anyone.

It's kind of a law that when you are in a hurry or don't want to run into anybody you know, you surely will.

I saw an old friend, a co-worker from days gone by. "Glenda!" I exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in forever. How are you? I'd heard you had to have some surgery?"

I gave her a big hug and as she began to speak, I was shocked. "Yes, I had cancer on my tongue and in my neck. I had to have a little bit of my tongue removed, so now I can't speak plainly."

She held up her arm ensconced in a leather brace. "Then after my surgery I had to have skin grafts on my neck. They took some from my arm but the grafts and the surgery on my neck caused the nerves in my arm not function correctly. So now I can't type."

"I'm so sorry," I said with tears rushing to my eyes. "I hate to hear of all this happening to you. It doesn't seem fair. Glenda, you're such a good person."

"Well, I wallowed in self-pity for quite a while. Then one day, I said to myself, 'Am I going to waste this one life I've been given in laying here and feeling sorry for myself? Or am I going to get out there and live the time I got left?' So, I just started getting up every day and seeing what I could do, or who I could go visit. Since I can't work anymore, I've got nothing but time." She chuckled, "Now I'm so busy, I can't get it all in!"

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I'm writing this post as part of a writing exercise at Five Minute Friday where today writers are writing for five minutes on the prompt, "life." My five minutes are up, but I must tell you the rest of the story:

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Glenda and I spent at least an hour visiting at the supermarket. I followed her out to her car because she wanted to give me a CD from her husband's musical group. Little did I know that afternoon would be our last long chat.

As usual, Glenda had lifted my spirits considerably. I had shared with her how I'd been cleaning the church because my secretarial job had been combined with the custodial to save the church money. I was discouraged because the handwriting was on the wall, so to speak, and I could clearly see my church was not going to be able to continue paying me a full time salary, even working both positions. I had determined to find work at a secular job; but nowhere I had applied had called me for interviews.

As I drove away from the parking lot that day, somehow I felt encouraged. If Glenda could quit feeling sorry for herself, so could I.

It was just a matter of days before God opened a door at another church and I was able to continue my career.

One day, about five years later, Glenda's husband, Dave, came home to find her body sitting in her favorite chair, but her spirit with Jesus. She was so loved by everyone in our county, when the visitation for her was held at the funeral home, the lines of people coming to pay their respects was backed out into the street. It took me a couple hours to get to the front and hug Dave's neck and express my condolences. 

"I lost my best friend," Dave said, "but I know where to find her."

~~~

Have you had some hard knocks and have maybe thrown a pity-party, or two? (I've found no one but the devil comes to those kind of parties.) Why not join me in determining to be like my friend. I'm not going to waste this one life I've been given. Every day, I'm going to find something, anything, that I can do.

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I'm linking this post at

Five Minute Friday

and at Grace&Truth.