Another Perspective

This is what my husband wrote about his experience. Thought I would share it, too:

On Saturday evening August 26, I was in the Lexington, Kentucky airport returning to Atlanta. My fellow travelers and I learned our flight, the last one out, was cancelled. We were given a choice of 6:00 am of 9:00 am flights the next morning. I wanted to hurry home to see my family, but I hesitated and decided on the later, 9:00 am flight. As I arrived the next morning, I was denied entry to the terminal by what was an unexpected and alarming number of emergency personnel. Then the news--the 6:00 am flight was Delta-Comair 5191 that crashed upon takeoff killing 49 onboard.

Thinking back, had this been a business day, I normally would have taken the early flight. I then remembered the man in line ahead of me who asked for the 6:00 am ticket--he lost his life. I didn’t know his name, but I remember his face. All day Sunday, it really didn’t sink in. But over the two days since, I’ve gone over it a thousand times. What would have been? My last conversation with my spouse the night before would have been a silly discussion about movies we wanted to see. I would not have seen her or my son again. I would not have seen the birth of my second child expected in December. Who would care for my mother who is ill, I thought?

I came to the realization this week that we can only tangibly affect the present. Sure, we can strive to do good work, choose to raise children and instill ideals that might outlive us into the future. But, it’s really the day to day life, the present tense where have the most impact. What would your last conversation of Saturday August 26 have been about? What would your actions on that day been spent toward?

I am not overjoyed. I am thankful for the days I have had since Saturday, but I am very sad for those who lost their lives, many due to a simple choice of two plane tickets. In honor of those lost in the crash, I would challenge each of us to consider every moment more carefully. We should choose more carefully the way we treat others and speak to them, just in case those are the last words and actions we’re remembered by. We should strive to contribute work in the office and in the community that has lasting quality. We should try to be a positive influence on others. If we do these things, no matter how many days each of us has on Earth, they will add up to a life worth living.


When I read this for the first time, I had no idea the guy ahead of him chose the 6:00 flight. Gave me chills to read it.

A few friends and family have mentioned to us that God spared Moon's life for a reason, that there is an unfulfilled purpose in Moon's life, something he must do, and this was made more obvious when his life was spared.

While I certainly don't believe in random fate pushing us all about the stage of life like so many dust bunnies swept up by some clown with a cosmic broom, I wonder about that statement. I wonder if the fact that he's here with the living today and the guy ahead of him in line is not means more than that. Surely my husband wasn't the only one in line God was looking out for, or the only one God cared about. Surely my husband wasn't the only one with unfulfilled dreams and purpose standing in that line at the airport, trying to get home to Atlanta.

One of my personal catchphrases over the past few years has become "life sucks, but God is good". In this world, people die too young and too soon. Bad things happen to good people. Bad people get away with doing horrible things. There is no perfection, no utopia, no protection from the reality of evil and good co-existing side by side. It is why, like Saint Augustine, I believe "our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God". It is why I believe in Heaven.

Maybe my husband's life was spared because there is some great unfulfilled plan for him that still must unfold. Or maybe it was just not his day to die. Ultimately, I think he sums it up well in his assessment of the whole thing--we can only tangibly affect the present. This minute is really all we have. I read a quote yesterday from Lawrence Scupoli from his work The Spiritual Combat: "God has granted you the morning, but he does not promise the evening. Spend each day as if it were your last."

What would our lives look like if we really took that to heart? How would I live this day differently if I thought it were my last?

This day. This minute. It's really all I know I have.