It’s crazy (and mildly depressing) to go through life thinking about the end of it, but my mind has a heavy emphasis on that dash between your start date and end date. When I get to the end of that dash and God says, “It is finished,” I don’t want my dumb ass to say, “For real, G?!”. I want to say, “That’s what’s up. Thanks for inviting me to the party.”

I’m not there yet.