The Shackelfords on my side of the world are rarely ever on time . . . so rarely, in fact, that I’ve told folks it’s a little known sign of the second coming when it happens. But this past Sunday morning looked like it would be the exception to the rule.  I actually left the house early enough to get to church and be on time—just barely, but still on time.

I generally go “the back way” meaning I miss the traffic and the red lights. I’ll head down Wayne Road, take a left on Harbert Drive, right on Pinhook, left on Bain, right on Stout, left on Florence Road, then a right on Ranch which runs beside the church parking lot.  It’s a lot of zigging and zagging with a few stop signs and just one red light—and no place to pass anyone who gets in your way.

I might also mention that I share my father’s impatience with those who do not drive at least the speed limit.

So I started down Wayne Road and made my left on Harbert . . . and landed right behind a charcoal gray Mustang. You’d think a Mustang would go faster than 20 miles an hour, but it was Sunday and I stood a chance of being on time, so 20 it was.  As I putted along, I thought “Surely, they won’t turn right on Pinhook.  After all, I have a 50/50 chance of them turning left.  If they’ll just turn left then I can make my right turn and . . . nope, there’s the right turn signal. Ok.  Surely they won’t turn left on Bain.  After all, I have a 50/50 chance of them just following Pinhook on around and heading toward town instead of left on Bain.  If they’ll just go straight on Pinhook then I can  . . . nope, there’s the left turn signal.”  My brain went into overdrive (literally) and I thought “I can turn left on Youngs Lane which weaves around (a lot), turns into Talley and finally hits Florence Road.  As slow as this Mustang is moving I’ll be on Florence Road before they even get to the end of Bain, much less turn right on Stout (if they plan on turning right on Stout which, given how things have gone so far, is definitely gonna happen), so I’ll be ahead of them and not feel like I’m driving through molasses.”

So I turned on Youngs Lane, negotiating the curves with expert skill, quickly reaching Florence Road. I glanced to my left to see if I actually did beat the Mustang.  To my delight, there was no Mustang to be seen . . . just this large piece of farm equipment crawling down the road . . . at 20 miles an hour.  He was nice enough to pull over and let the traffic by when he had the chance, but I had already waved the white flag of surrender . . . and it was 9:05.  My Sunday morning class started at 9:00.

Life has a way of smackin’ you in the face and then laughing when you look surprised. Robert  Burns put it a little more poetically when he said “The best laid plans o’ mice and men go oft astray.”  Actually, he said “gang aft agley” which means pretty much the same thing.  I had it all worked out so I could actually be on time for a change but Life conspired against me.  Often our best laid plans are forced to the sidelines while we deal with the curve balls of Life.  Those curve balls can come from so many different directions—financial problems, illness, Death—and many of them are inevitable, especially that Death one.

It would be nice if everyone knew when they would draw their last breath (or maybe not), but at least then we’d know how long we had to prepare. When do we need to have our will drawn?  What about making preparations so our family will not suffer financially when we leave this earthly plain?  Do the people who are the most important to us honestly know how we feel?  Are there apologies to be made or wrongs to be righted?

The inevitables of life are rarely ever pleasant but always certain, and to pretend they do not exist—or that we have plenty of time in which to address them—is naïve at best and foolish at the very worst. And Death, the greatest inevitable of all—the one for which we all should plan but seldom do—is the one that will create the greatest havoc if it manages to catch us unprepared.  As difficult as it is to contemplate our own mortality and plan with that in mind, we owe it to the people we love to do just that.

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