I was finishing lunch with a longtime mentor and friend when he casually mentioned, “Did you hear Charlie Kirk was shot?”
We pulled out our phones. Within minutes, the news was confirmed—Charlie was gone.
The timing felt almost surreal. We’d just spent two hours talking about life, legacy, and what it means to follow Jesus wholeheartedly. My mentor has walked through unimaginable loss the last two years—losing his brother, then nearly dying from a staph infection himself. He and his wife were among the couples who walked alongside Holly and me in our early marriage years, shaping who we became together. God has used them to shape both our marriage and our calling to serve other couples – they truly helped birth our calling to serve others.
Our conversation had been one of those rare, deep talks about what really matters. About not wasting the days we’re given. About leaving a legacy that points to Christ.
Then, as we were getting ready to leave—this news.
Regardless of where anyone stood on his views, seeing another young voice silenced, another family shattered, hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. Here was a husband and father whose tomorrow got cut short while he was doing what he believed God called him to do.
Walking to my car, I couldn’t stop thinking: life is breathtakingly fragile, and the conversations that matter can’t wait.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 came to mind the last couple of days as it reminds us that there is “a time for everything under heaven.” But nowhere does it promise we’ll know which time we’re in. We live as if we have endless tomorrows to love better, pray more, forgive deeper—but we don’t.
The question that’s been weighing on my heart isn’t about politics or platforms. It’s this: If today were your last day married to your spouse, would you be proud of how you loved them?
Not perfect love—none of us love perfectly. But intentional love. Present love. Love that chooses connection over comfort, purpose over productivity.
James 4:14 reminds us that life is “a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” Your marriage, your conversations, your chance to build something beautiful together—it’s all mist. Precious, God-given mist.
This week, don’t wait for the perfect moment to have that important conversation. Don’t postpone forgiveness. Don’t assume you’ll have more time to pursue the dreams God has placed in your hearts together.
Choose to love like today matters. Because it does.
We’re praying for your hearts and for our nation,
Mike and Holly
P.S. Before this week ends, ask your spouse this question: “What’s one dream we’ve been putting off that we should start pursuing together?” Life is too short for “someday.”
