Death and the Color of the Carpet

Death sneaks up on you. It does not ask permission. No one can escape it. Death doesn’t care if you are Paleo, healthy, vegan, tall, short, black, white, brown, Italian, Indian, young, old, from Canada or the Caribbean, it comes for all.

In recent weeks two acquaintances almost died and needed emergency surgery. A friend is knocking on deaths door as we speak. Death has no rivals, is inconsiderate, and comes like a thief in the night.

When one of these friends talked about dying a few short months back he said, “When I went to church I didn’t care what color the carpet was any longer. Didn’t care about music selection, or what words the pastor used in the sermon.”

That may sound like an inconsequential throwaway comment as he stared death in the face. But listen to what he’s saying.

Death brings things into perspective. The things you whine about and worry about and make much of don’t seem that big when you need a new kidney to live another day.

The color of the carpet doesn’t matter.

Petty preferences become shallow when death is staring you in the face. The judgment and graceless acts that often ooze from our pores become opportunities to repent and ask for forgiveness.

Everyone seems to be strong and opinionated when they are not thinking about death. But when Mr. Death comes knocking we want to ensure our affairs are in order. Regrets confessed and relationships mended the best we can.

The color of the carpet doesn’t matter.

Death is coming for all. Maybe today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now. But in the meantime let’s not obsess over the color of the carpet. Life is too short and hard to make mountains out of mole hills. Keep short accounts with God and others.