I don’t mean that as one of those sayings we toss around when somebody dies and then forget as soon as life gets busy again.
I mean life is short.
My big brother is gone.
Gone.
There are things about that sentence my heart is still trying to understand.
And since April, I have been hospitalized three times.
Three.
So when I tell you that I have been thinking about NOW, I need you to understand where that word is coming from.
Not from a motivational poster.
Not from a cute quote.
Not from somebody standing safely on the other side of life telling everybody else how to live theirs.
I’m talking about looking at your own life and realizing:
We keep acting like we have time guaranteed to us that nobody ever promised.
Time to make the call.
Time to forgive.
Time to apologize.
Time to say I love you.
Time to tell somebody they mattered.
Time to laugh until your stomach hurts.
Time to dance badly.
Time to sit quietly with somebody.
Time to stop pretending you don’t care.
Time to put down some foolishness that wasn’t worth carrying in the first place.
Time to LIVE.
We say:
Later.
Tomorrow.
When things settle down.
When I’m less busy.
When they reach out first.
When I feel better.
When I have more money.
When life gets easier.
Beloveds…
What if it doesn’t?
What if this is the life?
Messy.
Beautiful.
Painful.
Funny.
Unfinished.
Ordinary.
Extraordinary.
Now.
❤️
I listened to The O’Jays singing “Love Train,” and something in me heard more than a song.
I heard a question.
Are you coming?
Not when everybody agrees.
Not when humanity finally learns how to act right.
Not when every wound has healed.
Not when everybody believes what you believe.
Not when every relationship has been repaired.
Not when you’re certain you won’t get hurt again.
NOW.
Come now.
Love now.
Live now.
Laugh now.
Say it now.
Receive it now.
Rejoice now.
Because somebody you love can be here—
and then not be here.
😭❤️
I know that now in a way I desperately wish I didn’t.
My big brother is gone.
And I cannot change that.
But I can decide what his absence teaches me about the people who are still here.
I can look around.
I can see you.
I can love you.
I can stop saving flowers for funerals.
I can stop waiting until somebody cannot hear me to tell the world what they meant to me.
I can love people while they are alive.
And so can you.
👀
So I’m challenging you, Beloveds.
Who needs to hear from you?
Who needs to know you love them?
Who have you been meaning to call?
Who deserves their flowers while they can still smell them?
Who have you been withholding kindness from because you’re waiting for them to go first?
What joy have you postponed?
What dream have you convinced yourself you’ll get around to eventually?
What part of your own life have you been standing outside of, waiting for somebody to invite you in?
And here’s the uncomfortable one:
Who have you decided doesn’t belong on your Love Train?
👀
Because it’s easy to talk about loving humanity.
Humanity is abstract.
People are complicated.
People disagree with us.
People misunderstand us.
People disappoint us.
People look different.
Believe differently.
Vote differently.
Worship differently—or don’t worship at all.
People carry histories we don’t know.
Some people have wounds that make them difficult to reach.
Some people will never become who we wish they would become.
And still the question comes:
What are we going to do with the time we have?
I’m not asking you to abandon boundaries.
I’m not asking anybody to return to abuse.
I’m not asking you to pretend harm didn’t happen.
I’m asking something much simpler and much harder:
While you are here, what kind of human being do you want to be?
Because I have decided something.
🚂❤️
I’M STARTING A LOVE TRAIN OF MY OWN.
I don’t own the train.
I don’t get to inspect everybody’s ticket.
Actually…
There are no tickets.
😂❤️
You don’t have to believe what I believe.
You don’t have to look like me.
You don’t have to understand every part of me.
You don’t have to have your life together.
You can arrive grieving.
You can arrive laughing.
You can arrive questioning.
You can arrive believing.
You can arrive unsure.
You can sit quietly by the window if that’s all you have today.
Come.
There is room.
And once you get settled?
Scoot over.
Somebody else is coming.
❤️🚂❤️🚂❤️🚂❤️
That’s how I want to live whatever life I have.
Not counting how many days I might have left.
Making the days I have count.
Not waiting for the world to become loving.
Loving.
Not waiting for somebody else to build community.
Reaching.
Not demanding that everybody become the same.
Seeing people.
Not someday.
NOW.
Because my big brother was here.
And now he isn’t.
Because I’ve seen the inside of a hospital three times since April.
Because tomorrow is precious precisely because it isn’t promised.
Because there are people walking around today who desperately need somebody to remind them:
You matter.
You belong.
I see you.
I gotchu and gotcha.
And because despite everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve survived, everything I’ve gotten wrong, everything I’m still learning, and everything that hurts—
I still believe in love.
Maybe that’s foolish.
Then hand me my conductor hat.
😂🚂❤️
I’m doing it anyway.
So here is my challenge:
Don’t just listen to the Love Train.
Become part of it.
Call somebody.
Love somebody.
Encourage somebody.
Forgive where forgiveness is yours to give.
Ask forgiveness where you’ve caused harm.
Laugh.
Dance.
Dream.
Rest.
Begin again.
Tell somebody the truth while they can still hear it:
I love you.
And then make room for somebody you didn’t expect.
The world has enough trains carrying anger, suspicion, division, loneliness, fear, contempt and hatred.
I’m starting another one.
🔒🔑❤️🚂
Destination?
I don’t know.
Maybe we figure that out together.
But I know how we’re leaving the station:
LIVE NOW. LOVE NOW. LAUGH NOW. RECEIVE NOW. REJOICE NOW.
That sounds obvious until help quietly becomes control.
Sometimes people love us and still reach past our agency.
They decide because deciding seems faster.
They speak because waiting feels uncomfortable.
They move the chair, change the plan, finish the sentence, or solve the problem without asking.
Good intentions do not automatically create good impact.
I can need help and still need choice.
I can receive assistance and still be the authority on my own life.
I can be grateful and still say, “Please ask me first.”
Galatians 6:2 says, “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” KJV
Notice that bearing a burden does not require taking possession of the person carrying it.
For me, love and agency have to be able to sit at the same table.
For those who do not share my faith, the principle still stands:
Care should make room for the cared-for person.
🔑 Ask before assuming.
🔑 Assist without erasing.
🔑 Listen long enough to learn what help actually means.
You matter to me.
See my difference.
Do not make my difference all you see.
Asking for A Friend, Cassandra #YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: Beloveds, don’t allow folk to disappear you! You know what you need. Ask for help as needed. Then, let folk love you! Asking for A Friend…be encouraged. I love you.
