On the day I was going to die, I wonder if it would be a sunny spring day with stunning clouds and perfect weather? Maybe it would be a fall day, with the air crisp and with the leaves changing their color from a green tint to a dazzling multicolor array? No, it will probably be a cloudy day, maybe even rainy. No matter, because the beauty of the day is not in the weather you see, but in the people with whom you spend your time. Why would that day be any different than today?
On the day I was going to die, I would hope that I might be a little bit more patient with my coworkers and with that guy who cut me off on the highway, knowing that I would travel this road only one more time. I would hope that I would be kinder to my dog as he barks incessantly at every stranger, squirrel, truck and cat passing by our house. Why would that day be any different than today?
On the day I was going to die, it probably wouldn’t matter to me who was the president of the United States, or the vice president; or my governor or senator. It probably wouldn’t matter as much to me on that day as it has over the past few weeks. I would hope that on that day my heart would be thankful for the privilege that I have had living in this incredible nation, more unique than any in history before or since, where I could express my thoughts as I choose, live securely, prosper from my own hard work and worship my Savior without fear of reprisal or judgment.