Her breath was coming in short puffs as she lumbered from her Mercedes up the few steps to her massive mahogany front door.  The back of her cream silk blouse was wet and sweat poured from her forehead.  She barely made it into the front door before collapsing in the softness of her favorite chair. 

The Macy’s bags thudded to the floor along with her Coach bag. Elizabeth Arden anti-aging serum, night cream, day moisurizer, face serum and Cartier Parfum rolled under the coffee table on the wood floor.  She sat with her eyes closed sucking in air as if it were German chocolate cake.  But the air her lungs so desperately needed cut like a knife.  Pain shot up her arm and into her chest. 

She was dying. She knew it. Her life flashed before her eyes. Would there be even one person who would care if she died?

Her obituary would appear in the paper and talk about how she made millions from her advertising and marketing firm, the one that promoted well-known fast food chains that contributed to obesity and heart attacks.  Funny?  Not from where she was sitting in her specially-made, reinforced, extra-wide recliner.  Not really.  Not now.

She was worth millions.  Her business was honed so fine that she didn’t even have to go into the office if she wanted. Each second she made more money that she could ever hope to spend. She could have and purchase anything she wanted. 
It was what she had lived her life to accomplish. Always more.  More houses. More cars. More furniture. More diamonds. More time? Not even her money could buy her that. 
In the last 10 years, since her business had landed some of the top fast food chains, she had let herself go. Her weight had spiraled out of control.  She had eaten whatever she wanted that was decadent and sweet and fattening. 
It had kept her from making any real friends.  Food and money were her best friends.  Always available.  Not expecting anything. Always making sure she never had to feel…anything.
She wasn’t sure she even had feelings any more. There was always more food to mask any emotion. More money to purchase the next new thing.  No, feelings weren’t in the mix any more.  She was numb.
Now in the end, she wondered, “If I had it to do over again, what would I do differently?”

Personal Recipe Against Nightmare

1.    Realize I am worth spending time and effort on.
2.    Make being healthy one of my foremost concerns.  Eat right. Exercise.  I cannot help others unless I am healthy myself.
3.    Be concerned about others.  Really listen to others. Hear their hearts.  Share my heart.
4.    Love deeply, no matter what another does or does not do.
5.    Value my family and friends.  Connect with their hearts.
6.    Follow the dream that God has placed in my heart whether money is there or not.  Money is not my god.
7.    Above all, love and value my relationship with God. Spend time basking in His presence, in stillness, in light, in nature, with music.
Writing Prompt #Trust30, Day 27:  I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be sound and sweet, and not to need diet and bleeding. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Think about the type of person you’d NEVER want to be 5 years from now. Write out your own personal recipe to prevent this from happening and commit to following it. “Thought is the seed of action. (Author: Harley Schreiber)