And it freaks me out. Whenever I see a skull or bones, I realize that someday I’ll be only that. A skeleton.
It’s odd how much I think about this. Maybe it’s the result of reading too many (or not enough?) Randy Alcorn books about heaven and eternity. I think about death, about what legacy I’ll leave behind, about what my possible heavenly reward might be. I wonder how much hay and wood and stubble will burn up. I wonder how many of my works will last.
I am more than bones.
I am soul and mind and heart.
And what I do on this earth counts. Matters. An essence of good works here outlasts me to the sweet hereafter.
Yet still, I press my fingers to my wrist and think about the skeleton inside. I wonder how long my heart will pump, how long I’ll taste earth’s air, how long my hands will fly on the keyboard.
Do you ever think about these things? Are you reminded of mortality?