Yesterday, I left a hospice visit care delivery and sat in my car with tears in my eyes—the kind that come when your heart is both full and breaking at the same time. I had just spent time with some incredible families who know their time with a loved one is short. And yet… their words were filled with peace, laughter, and even gratitude. They were the ones encouraging me.
And in that moment, all the things I had been frustrated about earlier… vanished.
Perspective has a way of doing that.
I often say this ministry changes lives—but the truth is, it changes mine every single day. You walk into a room with Moose, my therapy dog, and everything else fades away. You sit with someone who’s praying for just one more day with their daughter, their spouse, their parent—and suddenly, your long to-do list doesn’t feel so urgent. The petty frustrations don’t carry the same weight.
You start to see life through different glasses when you spend your days walking into sacred spaces. When you hold hands with people who are savoring their final moments. When you’re invited to hear their stories, to laugh with them, cry with them, pray with them. It shifts everything.
It softens the heart. It reminds you what truly matters. It makes you grateful for one more breath. There simply isn’t a greater honor than being part of someone’s journey in those moments.
So this morning, I’m sitting in the early quiet. Remembering faces. Whispering prayers. Letting the perspective settle deep in my soul.
Perspective.
We don’t get to choose how many days we have. But we do get to choose how we live them. And yesterday reminded me to live them well—
With love.
With presence.
With gratitude.
With forgiveness.
And with a perspective that sees every breath as the gift it truly is.
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