Time flies. And it doesn't have softly beating feathery wings. It's got a jet engine.
When the car pulls away and my family's gone, I always wish I'd listened more, loved more, heard more, cared more in those few seconds that we were together. But life's like that: it gives you little tastes of what you want so you won't forget how much better the real thing will be.
I want to be with my family now, but what I really want is to never be separated. That's going to happen in Heaven.
I want to understand what they're saying now, and love them more and more and more. What I really want is perfect hearing and perfect love for them.
That's going to happen in Heaven.
Thank you, Lord, for making time. And thank you for giving it a limited supply of gas.