Reflection 19: A Hearse, a Highway, and a Reminder

In true fashion, we forgot to send E to school with pull ups.

Around 8:10 that morning I got a message from daycare letting me know he had goose egg zero zilch nada. Not a single pull up left. Forrest is over an hour away at work, so this one fell on me. I ran home, grabbed the extra pack we thankfully had, and headed back out. Daycare is about fifteen minutes from our house, so I figured it would be a quick in and out.

On the way there, I saw red and blue lights ahead. Every time I see red and blue lights, I cross myself. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. I started doing it years ago for ambulances, but now I do it for police officers too. One time I jokingly told Forrest that even police officers deserve protection, and now it is just something we do. If we see red and blue lights, we pray. Because no matter how routine it looks, someone is putting their life on the line.

As I got closer, I realized it was a group of motorcycle officers. Then I saw a hearse. More officers behind it. They were stopping traffic completely, blocking the feeder road and the highway so the hearse could merge and continue on without interruption.

But what struck me was this.

There was not a single car behind the hearse.

No line of vehicles. No family following close behind. Just the hearse and the police escort. Maybe everyone was already waiting at the cemetery. Maybe I simply could not see them. But in that moment, it felt quiet. Almost lonely.

And it made me think.

I do not want people devastated when I die. I want them to rejoice that I am with our Lord and Savior. But I do want to know that my life mattered to someone. That there would be people who cared enough to show up. To say goodbye to the earthly version of me.

That image stayed with me the rest of the drive.

It reminded me why I have been feeling pulled to shift my focus. Because no matter how hard I work on my career, how many degrees I earn, how much money I make, how nice the house is or how reliable the car is, none of it comes with me when I die. Not one thing.

The only thing that has eternal weight is the souls entrusted to me.

My children.

Sit with that for a second. The only thing I can possibly help bring with me into eternity are my children. And I cannot guarantee anything. But I can do my very best. I can raise them to know Jesus. To love Him. To follow Him. I can give them every opportunity to get to heaven.

My career will not sit beside me in a hospital room. Money will not hold my hand. Titles and accomplishments will not visit my grave. But my children and the people I love can.

We are earthly beings for a moment. We will die. That is guaranteed. So the question becomes what are we investing in while we are here?

For me and my house, we will serve the Lord. And right now, that looks like investing deeply into my family. It looks like choosing presence over prestige. It looks like remembering that my children will never be this age again, and I will never be this version of myself again.

They deserve my time. My attention. My energy.

Watching that hearse drive down the highway without a single car behind it felt like a quiet nudge from God. A reminder that what follows you at the end of your life is not your résumé. It is the love you cultivated. The people you poured into.

Just something to think about today.