Have you ever wished you could rewind time just a little?
Not to win the lottery or fix your eyebrows from 2016, but to say one more thing you should have said?
Have you ever replayed a moment in your head at 2 a.m. and thought, Why did I say that. Or worse, Why didn’t I say anything at all?
Have you ever felt regret sneak up on you out of nowhere, like an uninvited guest who sits on your couch and refuses to leave?
Because same.
Two days ago, my mom called me and told me my dad was in the ER. My dad is 75 years old, and the moment she said it, something shifted inside me. That tight feeling in your chest. The one that doesn’t fully panic yet, but absolutely does not relax either. The kind of fear that just quietly sets up camp and starts unpacking.
Growing up, my dad was a superhero. Not the flashy Marvel kind. The real kind. The kind that fixed everything. Broken sink. Fixed. Flat tire. Fixed. World falling apart. Fixed. In my little girl brain, he was indestructible. Immune to sickness, age, and time. The kind of dad you assume will always be there because he always has been.
But then you grow up. And life gently, or not so gently, reminds you that even superheroes get tired.
Watching your parents age is one of the weirdest emotional experiences no one prepares you for. One minute they are chasing you around the house, and the next minute you are watching them move a little slower, forget little things, and need help in ways they never did before. Suddenly, the roles feel like they are slowly flipping, and nobody asked if you were ready for that.
I am grateful that today is New Year’s Day and I get to spend it with my mom and dad at their house. Truly grateful. But gratitude and fear can coexist. I can smile at my dad across the room while a tiny voice in my head whispers, This won’t always look like this. And that voice is rude, by the way. Completely uninvited.
The truth is, in an instant, everything can change.
I have learned that the hard way.
In just a few years, my life has shifted dramatically. My husband went to prison. Some days that still doesn’t feel real. My uncle-in-law passed away this month. One minute someone exists in your life, and the next minute they are a memory. And somehow the world keeps spinning like nothing happened, which feels almost offensive.
But here is the thing that messes with your head. Instant changes are not always bad. Sometimes, in the same blink of an eye, good things happen too. Doors open. Opportunities show up. Life surprises you in ways you never planned. That is the chaos of being human. Pain and promise often walk in together like they are friends.
Life happens in moments. Big moments. Small moments. And everything in between.
I used to think life was about the big milestones. Weddings. Promotions. Birthdays with balloons and cakes. But lately, I have realized that life is actually made up of the boring stuff. Sitting on the couch. Eating meals together. Small conversations that don’t seem important until one day you realize you would give anything to have them again.
I have watched friends live with regret that weighs heavier than any mistake they ever made. Friends who held unforgiveness in their hearts toward a parent, a sibling, a relative. Friends who went ten years without speaking to someone they loved because of pride, hurt, or unresolved pain. And then one day, they get the call. The one you never want to get.
They rush to the hospital. They stand next to a bed filled with machines and silence. And suddenly, all the reasons they stayed angry don’t matter anymore. All that matters is time. And time is not offering refunds.
That regret stays. Not because they were bad people, but because they were human. Hurt people who thought they had more time.
And that is the lie we all believe. That we will deal with it later. That we will forgive tomorrow. That we will say I love you next week. That we will make the phone call when things calm down. That we will show up when life slows down.
Spoiler alert. Life does not slow down.
We keep waiting for the perfect moment to fix things, but the perfect moment rarely exists. There is only now. Messy, inconvenient, imperfect now.
I wish I could say I have always done this well. I haven’t. I have avoided hard conversations. I have held onto resentment longer than I should have. I have chosen distraction over connection more times than I want to admit. I have assumed people would always be there.
And now, watching my dad sit across from me, older than he used to be, I feel that familiar tug in my chest reminding me that time is not something to waste. It is something to steward.
I do not want to live a life filled with what ifs. What if I had called more. What if I had forgiven sooner. What if I had shown up when it was uncomfortable. What if I had loved louder.
So this year, I am choosing something different.
I am choosing to make memories instead of excuses.
I am choosing to forgive even when it feels unfair.
I am choosing to say the things that matter while there is still breath to hear them.
I am choosing presence over perfection.
And listen, this does not mean pretending pain never happened. Forgiveness does not mean minimizing what hurt you. It means refusing to let the past rob you of the future. It means choosing freedom over bitterness, even when bitterness feels justified.
I am learning that love is not proven by how long someone is in your life, but by how intentionally you show up while they are there. Love is in the phone calls. The visits. The uncomfortable conversations. The apologies that start with I was wrong instead of But you did this.
This year, let’s choose to live like time is precious. Because it is. Let’s choose to forgive before regret has a chance to grow roots. Let’s choose to make memories instead of waiting for someday.
Because someday is not promised. But today is here.
And today is enough.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!