“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
There are no real tomorrows, no plans, no potential leads. All I have are moments, just fleeting spots of time. Choice is mine to use them, to love, to act, to heal.
Could let my past define me, draw a nice graph from where I've been to where I should go. But who wants to be predictable? I've traveled from biochemistry to English literature to medicine to business, from Arkansas to Oklahoma to Oxford to Boston. Serving the ill, fulfilling the mission, these too have many faces: hospital CEO, medical oncologist, global health volunteer, or even venture financier. Yes, health care is the calling that feeds my soul, gives me reason to look in the mirror each day.
But I can't be tempted to follow a script, even if I found one. Take my son William who wanders about carefree, never hoarding naively for the future. He lives unfettered by the comings and goings that make life seem a nicely ordered, pedestrian affair. No, living, truly living means nothing is assumed and everything is grace. The open arms awaiting husband and father at the door. The hushed words as a patient lies dying on her bed. The joy of seeing classmates now, from here and across the globe, never waiting for reunions of tomorrow. As you read this, I hope to be living another today.
Could let my past define me, draw a nice graph from where I've been to where I should go. But who wants to be predictable? I've traveled from biochemistry to English literature to medicine to business, from Arkansas to Oklahoma to Oxford to Boston. Serving the ill, fulfilling the mission, these too have many faces: hospital CEO, medical oncologist, global health volunteer, or even venture financier. Yes, health care is the calling that feeds my soul, gives me reason to look in the mirror each day.
But I can't be tempted to follow a script, even if I found one. Take my son William who wanders about carefree, never hoarding naively for the future. He lives unfettered by the comings and goings that make life seem a nicely ordered, pedestrian affair. No, living, truly living means nothing is assumed and everything is grace. The open arms awaiting husband and father at the door. The hushed words as a patient lies dying on her bed. The joy of seeing classmates now, from here and across the globe, never waiting for reunions of tomorrow. As you read this, I hope to be living another today.
— Jason Sanders