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A poignant introspect grows from a recurring theme in the stage play, Hamilton. “Who lives? Who dies? Who tells your story?” These lyrics all but force us to contemplate this reality. Very few people take into account the fact that our sojourn here on earth mandates temporary occupancy, even if that occupancy encompasses one-hundred plus years. Unless our life expectancy becomes threatened through sickness or peril, we, for the most part, navigate through life with little attention given towards what happens next. 

 

Thoughts of transition into the great beyond and what remains of our longevity begins tugging at us as we start to encounter creaky bones, dimming vision, and a slowing pace. BAM! It hits us: the whisperings of that internal dialogue, “How much time do I have?” “When will I die?” “Who tells my story?” “I better make the most of the time I have left.” “What have I done with my life?” The barrage of inquisition can become overwhelming, but it can also invoke a renewed sense of purpose.

 

As Hamilton submits, “Who lives?” Yes, who? Breath provides fuels those who embody a mission to complete. Perhaps, your mission directs you to accomplish some noble task for humanity. Maybe, your mission moves you to encourage and cheer up those who received a duty to challenge injustice systems and bring reform. If you possess breath today, your mission, your task, your ability requires it. Straight and simple, you must have the breath of life to get your job done. Will you do it?

 

Hamilton prompts us to consider, “Who dies?” Simply put, those who’ve finished their course. No matter how seemingly short a life span, imagine how that one life, although brief, impacted the lives of others. Remember the compass for who lives and why? Possibly, that short life inspired others to dream, to cherish, to hope, to get moving or involved. A life too soon taken has that kind of influence and power. Now, who else dies? Unfortunately, those who’ve exhausted their time, but neglected to fulfill their story. One line that stands out to me from Hamilton, “Let me tell you what I wish I’d known when I was young and dreamed of glory. You have no control.” I say, “Yes,” and “No.” Of course, we have some control over whether we embrace the mission set before us to accomplish in our lifetime. However, we have no control over how much time we have before our exit date. We all have a window of time to finish our course before we die.

 

 Hamilton continues to bring you back to “Who tells your story?” More importantly, what is your story? We begin our lives with a very defined mission and purpose. If we’ve embraced our mission and finished our purpose within the divine timeline, we die having emptied ourselves into the lives of others. Then someone comes along to breathe life into each of our memory by telling each story. Thus, the cycle of life. 

 

Some people are born with the noble responsibility to keepsake the memory of another. You know them by their passion for gathering and celebrating the life and achievements of a person. They take great joy commemorating the life of this person assigned to them. Think of it; someone is born with a responsibility to tell your story. I recognize and embrace the fact that my mission is to help others tell their stories. In my family, my commission keepsakes the principles of faith and family in memory of my grandparents. I take it very seriously because my grandmother took her responsibility to faith and family seriously. I never knew my great-grandparents, but I knew them. My grandmother made sure of it. She lived for nearly 90 years, and then she died. Before she died, I assured her that I’d do my part in keeping our family reminded of her passion for faith and family. I believe she lived long enough until I understood and embraced the vision of speaking life into our family as she did. She passed the baton on to me, and I accept this task with great love and devotion. I live to tell her story. That’s why I’m still here. Sharing your stories and keeping alive the memories of your loved ones is why I’m here. I welcome every opportunity to help craft someone’s life story. My heart beams with great contentment every time my words help breathe life into a story. 

 

When I complete my last story, I will die empty and satisfied. I will have deposited all that I came to give. Someone will then tell my story. Since I don’t know my last day, I earnestly commit to fulfilling my mission. 

 

What about you? What’s your mission in life? Who will tell your story?

 

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