About a week after his death, she shared some of her insight with a classroom of students. As the late afternoon sunlight came streaming in through the classroom windows and the class was nearly over, she moved a few things aside on the edge of her desk and sat down there. With a gentle look of reflection on her face, she paused and said, "Before class is over, I would like to share with all of you a thought that is unrelated to class, but which I feel is very important.
Each of us is put here on earth to learn, share, love, appreciate and
give of ourselves. None of us knows when this fantastic experience will
end. It can be taken away at any moment. Perhaps this is God's way
of telling us
that we must make the most out of every single day."
Her eyes beginning to water, she went on, "So I would like you all to
make me a promise. From now on, on your way to school, or on your way home,
find something beautiful to notice. It doesn't have to be something you
see -- it could be a scent-perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of
someone's house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling
leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catches one autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground. Please look for these things, and cherish them. For, although it may sound trite to some, these things are "the stuff" of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy. The things we often take for granted. We must make it important to notice them, for at any time ... it can all be taken away."
The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester.
Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook.
Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double-dip ice cream cone. For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn't do.
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.