Recently, someone I know received a heart transplant.
A real, honest-to-goodness miracle.
The heart was a perfect match. Surgery went well. Recovery went well. In fact, things went so well that they were released from the hospital earlier than expected.
Then they ended up back in the hospital.
From what I understand, they were feeling so good that they weren’t following all the precautions the doctors had recommended.
I’ll admit, I spent a few days serving as the self-appointed Chairperson of the Committee for Other People’s Life Choices.
Then I realized something uncomfortable.
The questions I was asking about someone else’s heart were questions I had never seriously asked about my own.
Because I, too, have been given a heart.
Not a transplanted one. The original equipment model.
It has faithfully shown up every day for nearly six decades without asking much in return.
And unlike the transplant recipient, I didn’t even have to wait for mine.
It was given to me freely.
By the greatest Giver of all.
That realization led to some uncomfortable questions.
Do I take care of my body the way I should?
Do I exercise enough?
Do I eat the way I know I should?
The answer to most of those questions depends on the day you ask me and whether Dr Pepper Zero Sugar counts as a food group.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the question was bigger than physical health.
What does it mean to honor the gift of being alive?
Not just to keep my body alive.
To keep my soul alive.
To keep curiosity alive.
To keep hope alive.
To keep kindness alive.
To keep laughter alive.
To keep writing alive, even when nobody is waiting for the next blog post.
To keep learning new things at an age when I occasionally wonder if I should have everything figured out by now.
To keep loving people despite disappointment.
To keep showing up.
There is a difference between merely staying alive and truly living.
I’m not talking about skydiving or climbing Mount Everest. Frankly, both sound exhausting.
I’m talking about being awake to the life we’ve been given.
Because if I’m honest, I spend a lot of time thinking about all the things I should be doing better.
I should eat better.
I should exercise more.
I should be more disciplined.
I should be further along.
I should have figured this out years ago.
The problem with “should” is that it usually brings shame along as a traveling companion.
Lately, I’ve been wondering if there is a better question.
Not:
Why aren’t you doing better?
But:
How can you honor the gift today?
Some days, honoring the gift might look like taking a walk.
Some days it might look like calling a friend.
Some days it might look like setting a boundary.
Some days it might look like resting.
Some days it might look like starting something that scares you.
Some days it might simply mean getting back up after making a mess of the day before.
I’ve discovered that not every imperfection is evidence of failure.
Sometimes it’s simply another place where I can be intentional.
Another opportunity to grow.
Another reminder that I am still becoming.
Because honoring the gift of being alive isn’t about doing everything right.
It’s choosing to live with purpose and intention, even on the days we feel messy, imperfect, unseen, or painfully aware of our mistakes.
The beautiful thing about a heart is that it doesn’t quit because yesterday was imperfect.
Every morning, it is still beating.
Maybe that’s the invitation for the rest of us, too.
But first a nap 