Every morning, I take vitamins with an enticing label that promises to boost longevity. My late husband, a frugal guy, purchased multiple jars during a sale — and then stashed them in the basement.
The irony certainly isn’t lost on me — because he downed these pills faithfully and exercised daily — and still succumbed to a fatal heart attack at 55.
We bought organically grown foods when we could afford them, leaned toward products with “natural” stamped on their packages — and researched substances that the internet gods promised would miraculously extend our life spans.
Red wine, green tea, dark chocolate and coconut oil top the list — and don’t forget blueberries, kale and garlic.
Still, my experience has shown me that, yes, good health is a fine goal — but don’t turn its pursuit into an obsession.
I mean, if you prefer milk over dark chocolate, don’t fret because you’re missing out on those mysterious antioxidants that lurk within cocoa beans.
And if — like me — you can’t bear the taste of kale, cross it off your shopping list — because life is too short to consider every meal a vitamin pill.
Admittedly, I take long walks and watch my weight — but ever since my husband’s death, I’ve embraced the obvious fact that nothing will fend off the Grim Reaper forever.
And frankly, I find it hilarious when some 100-year-old guy makes headlines — and then confesses he eats bacon and drinks whiskey everyday.
Despite our yearning to master things — weight control, birth control, mind control — we don’t determine our life span, nor the circumstances of our deaths.
We do, however, shape our attitudes and the ways we treat other people. And a beautiful song by Tim McGraw touts two traits for a good life — which aren’t diet and exercise.
“Go to church ‘cause your mamma says to; Visit grandpa every chance that you can; It won’t be wasted time; Always stay humble and kind.”
I’m not advocating smoking cigarettes, gobbling down doughnuts and refusing to leave our La-Z-Boy recliners — but so many people waste precious time on food fads and treadmill treks.
They fervently head to the gym, monitor calories with Fitbits — but somehow can’t show up for church on Sunday.
Truth be told, we can eat low-fat, sugar-free, vitamin-enriched meals, drink filtered water, run ourselves ragged in various marathons — and still die young.
As Jesus put it, “Keep watch, because you don’t know the day or the hour.” And he also asked, “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”
At some point, death sneaks in, like a thief in the night — and we can’t vanquish it with firm biceps and abs of steel.
I’ve never read an obituary about how religiously Mr. Jones went jogging and swam laps — or how Mrs. Smith fit into a size 2 after decades of dieting.
The best eulogies describe down-home folks who sacrificed for their families, prayed hard in church on Sunday and remained — in the words of that song — humble and kind.
They didn’t make headlines, nor did they take first prize in any sport — but as St. Paul said, they “fought the good fight … finished the race … and kept the faith.”
They also kept their sanity, because they acknowledged that, when it comes to life and death, God is at the helm.
Lorraine Murray has written a trilogy of fun-filled, church mysteries, most recently, "Death Dons a Mask." Her email is lorrainevmurray@yahoo.com.
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