When our children are growing, we often don't recognise or realise the significance of lasts.
The last time we tuck them into bed at night.
The last time they climb into our lap for a story or a cuddle.
The last time we wait for them to get home at night.
The last time we have to remind them to do their chores.
The last time we have to help them with something before they learn the skills themselves.
These lasts often go unnoticed. And it's not until sometime later that we realise their importance.
The same is true for when we lose someone.
I've been thinking a lot about these lasts in the recent loss of my mother-in-law.
The last time I took her shopping or to a doctor's appointment.
The last time I heard her tell a particular story.
The last time I walked up to the nursing home to visit.
The last time we celebrated her birthday.
Whatever the last, had we known it was the last time would we have shown more patience? Or interest? Or been more present and engaged? Would we have held onto the moment more tightly? Or would we have continued to be unaware, letting the significance of the lasts elude us?
I'm reminded that the disciples also experienced some lasts ... and, like us, perhaps didn't realise the significance until later.
The last Passover with Jesus. He even warned them that He would not be with them for much longer, but they failed to listen or fully comprehend.
The last time praying with Him in the garden. Had they realised, would they have made more of an effort to stay awake?
The last time hearing His words. Not until later would they fully understand.
The last time.
How many of them would have done things differently, had they only known it was the last time? It's human nature to look back with regret and wonder what we could have done differently. However, everything, from Peter's denial, to His disciples abandoning Him when He was in greatest need, was all foretold.
And only later would they understand.
