There's Always Next Year

It's too much like work.

I'm going through a divorce.

I don't feel like it.

She probably won't get to play much anyway!

There is always next year.

One by one, that was the list of excuses I gave in 2006 of reasons I wasn't going to watch my little sister Karson play, as a sophomore, varsity basketball at point guard.

It was true. I was a sports editor for the county newspaper and although I'm an avid sports junkie and fan, going to games had started to feel like I was at work. I couldn't just enjoy the game. My ex-wife is a good woman. She just wasn't suited for me . . . instead of telling her leading up to the wedding I went through with it because I did care about her. The result was less than a year after saying our 'I dos' we were living two separate lives underneath the same roof and I honestly wasn't in much of a mood to socialize with people.

I was SELFISH.  If I didn't feel like going to a game, I wouldn't go or anything else for that matter. If it inconvenienced me, you could just go ahead and count me out! She will only play a couple of minutes of mop-up time. After all, she was an undersized guard playing varsity a year early, so the odds of her playing much weren't very good.

And finally, the easiest and best excuse of all . . . 'There is always next year!' There is always next year, there is always next month, next week, the next day, so it was really no big deal if I missed my little step-sister's basketball game. She would understand and besides she loved me and knew I loved her. Cankles, that's what I called her picking around with her because there was no distinction between her calves and ankles, would be a standout at least in her senior year and I would be there for as many games as possible.

Only One Problem

Mitzi, my wife at the time, walked into the living room.

'Karson died in a car wreck,' she blurted out in the most blunt way possible of giving me the news I would never hug my 16-year-old sister again.

What happened next was a blur. I punched holes in my wooden door, kicked a hole, went outside and pounded the ground as tears flowed down my face. I sobbed, I weeped, I would calm down then repeat the process like clockwork before my big sister (Julie), who was closer to Karson than I was and grown even closer in the final year of her life, came and picked me up.

We headed to Grace Hospital where my family and I were briefed on what happened in a car accident that took Karson Victoria Carroll's life and Matthew Potter's. As I'm listening, I hear the doctor, or state trooper, hell I don't know which, tell us she died in a black Camaro.

This couldn't be happening! See my childhood best friend Jonathan died our sophomore year at Western Carolina in a black Camaro. I couldn't imagine that life would be so cruel as to rob me of two of the people I loved the most in the same car . . . not once, but twice!

We then walked into the morgue before they haul them off to the funeral home. There was my little sister on a metal gurney. I still remember how cold that room was to this day! I can feel the icey-chill on my skin as I write this . . . if only I could feel her breath.The beautiful smile gone forever, her playful giggle, her soft touch, her cuddles . . . never again. I would say she looked so peaceful, but angelic would be a much better word to describe how she looked as my mind tried to process something I never thought I would have to see.

It was agony. That's a memory that stays with you like gum on the shoe of your heart. It never disappears!

I heard Karson's spirit speak to my spirit in that moment.

'It's OK brother, I'm not here.'

I can't describe to you the peace and closure that brought me.

I remembered some of her last words, 'It's OK Poppy (my Dad), if I die I'll run straight into the arms of Jesus!' That's exactly why she wasn't there. She was in Jesus' arms in Heaven.

I Learned the Hard Way!

I learned there is not always next year. There is not always next month, next week, the next day, not even our next hour. For that matter, we aren't guaranteed our next heartbeat, the next breath we draw in our lungs, our next thought or next blink of our eyes. Each moment is a precious gift. No matter how we spend that moment, it is nonetheless invaluable.

Since then, I've quit being nearly as selfish. Of course I have room to grow, and can still think of me FAR more than I should, I've made a big change! My little niece Madison's soccer games when she was six years old, seven, eight etc. were not a burden, but became a joy to attend. See, it didn't matter how much she played, if she scored any goals, had any assists or if her team won . . . the important thing was I was there. I was there as a tangible expression of my love for her, to show her my support and to share in that moment.

Before Karson passed away, I couldn't imagine waking up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday to go out to a freezing cold soccer field for an hour and a half to watch soccer, but after the fact I set my alarm every time Madison had a game.

I wasn't always in the most cheerful mood, and sometimes was still half-asleep, but I was there right there alongside my Mom, Buddy, Julie, Mamaw, Dad, Madison's Father Mark and other members of the family. Now Madison is grown up, a freshman in high school, and she runs track and cross country. I don't go to every single event she does, but I am there. I text her prayers before she runs and I also go to some of her meets.

Every single day of my life, I beat myself up, but ultimately deal with the pain and agony that comes from the selfish decisions of my past, who the old John Mark was. I am learning to forgive myself, but I haven't reached that place yet and honestly who knows if I ever will, but I am FOREVER changed!

My other little niece, who is named after our little sister, Karson Faith is three and Lord willing we will get to watch her play sports as she grows up too. I don't have my own family as I am not married and don't have any children, but my girlfriend Sara has two-- Tyklen (4) and Finley (19 months).  It's changed me with them too. I may not always feel like wrestling with Tyklen, pushing them on the swing, kicking the soccer ball, throwing the football, or any other kind of ball with him. I don't always have the energy to be the 'giant'  or let him mistake me for a jungle gym, but I do.

While I did not help conceive Tyklen and Finley, I love them like my own and when they're being whiney, crying, fussing and ugly or disrespectful, I remember I'll never get this moment back, so it's less about what I feel like doing, or if there is a football game on I really want to watch and more about them! My amazing Sara and I both know they're only this age once and we don't want to miss out on a single thing.

I made a promise to myself I would never miss out on validating my family and friends again. I show them and tell them how much I love them often-- in a text, with my voice, found in a sticky-note or in a warm embrace or soft kiss. I take a ton of pictures because I realize simply tomorrow is not promised and I want to document every step along life's journey along the way!

I try to appreciate every single day I'm on Earth . . . each day the Giver of Life blesses me with one more. I don't, but I do try. I try to live, love, laugh and give, all in and through Jesus, as much as I can. I give the shirt off my back even when I don't have it to give. I'm not patting myself on the back because 'I' do NONE of it, He does it all! Many things, good and bad, can be said about me-- some true and some not-- but I deeply appreciate my God, my Savior Jesus, my family, my friends and moments that intertwine this beautiful tapestry we call LIFE . . . like a man who has been given a second chance because I have!

My Advice

I'm not famous, I'm not a pastor, a counselor and honestly have no professional training whatsoever, so you can take this for what it's worth. But, don't wait until next year! To the moms and dads reading this, even if you've only acted like a mother and father to your children, it's never too late to take an interest in your kids. The reality is, you can give your kid everything they want . . . spoil them rotten, but ALL the gifts in the world won't replace the one thing EVERY kid (no matter the age, no matter the race, or socio-economic background) LOVE.

All kids want to know they belong. Every single person who lives wants to be accepted, affirmed and validated. See death is not the only thief of these moments, but time is as well. When your kids, or your parents, grandparents or friends are a certain age, they are only that age once. The older I get, the faster the years go and talking to my dear friend Mary (103), who is like a second grandmother to me, has given me even more of a sense of urgency because she says her life (the longest one I've ever known) has gone by just like that *snap of a finger*

Avoiding the 'There's always next year' epidemic doesn't just apply to the people in your life, but also to the dreams you have. It applies to things you would like to mark off on your Bucket List, what you want to accomplish, who you want to become, who you need to forgive, who you want to emulate and the lives you want to make a difference in.

Take my advice and not only pursue the dream God placed in your heart or chase it, but do it NOW! Yes, chase the Dream Giver, but in doing so become a Dream Liver. It's not easy to step out of the boat and run toward your dreams when the devil's fear of failure, feelings of insufficiency and past hurts leave you paralyzed with fear, but no exciting journey begins without taking the hardest step of all-- the first one.

Quit putting off. Stop delaying.  Whatever dream the Lord has given you, and not only given you the pursuit but equipped you with the gifts and talents necessary to accomplish that dream, go LIVE it TODAY.

I'm urging you to accept this counsel, but if not . . .
'There is always next year!'