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Life and Death Decisions

Shackelford Funeral Directors • Apr 01, 2015

For weeks now I have watched in horror and disbelief as the story behind the crash of Germanwings flight 9525 unfolded.  Upon hearing of the tragedy, my first thought was that it could not have been an accident and sadly enough, my first thought proved to be correct.  As I sat contemplating how anyone could intentionally take the lives of 149 innocent people, the realization dawned that Andreas Lubitz had, in that single moment of decision, chosen Death as his destination.  Not only did he make that decision for himself, but for those who had trusted him with their lives when they boarded that plane.

I wondered how he must have felt as he manipulated the controls to begin the descent into the Alps.  How could his breathing remain calm and steady as the pilot, realizing what was happening, became more and more aggressive in his efforts to regain entrance into the cockpit?  He must have heard the screams of the passengers when they finally understood.  How could he ignore that?  How could he remain unaffected?  When given the opportunity—when faced with the choice between Life and Death—Andreas Lubitz chose Death.

I began mentally reviewing history in search of others who, at some point in their lives, held that same power and, for whatever reason, Harry Truman came to mind.  I could not imagine how he must have wrestled with the decision to use the atomic bomb during World War II, how many sleepless nights there were, knowing that tens of thousands of lives would be taken and that they could not pinpoint the devastation so as to avoid civilian casualties.  In that instance he chose Death—not for himself but for so many others—believing it was the only way to assure continued life for those who had fought for four long years.  And after viewing the images and reading the reports following the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Truman called a halt to any further use of the atomic bomb.  He could not bear the thought that hundreds of thousands more would die.

Every day we have a choice.  Granted, it may not be as cold and calculated as the one Andreas Lubitz made or as far-reaching as that of Harry Truman.  But we are constantly choosing between Life and Death, and we don’t even realize it.    Do we check the text message we just received or, worse yet, respond to it while we’re driving?  If we’re running late do we fly through the stop sign, try to beat the caution light, or ignore the speed limit as we weave in and out of traffic?  Do we indulge in alcohol then slide behind the wheel?  Do we light up the next cigarette or do we decide to quit, pack on the pounds while we vegetate on the couch or decide to take better care of the one body we’re allowed in this life?  Such mundane matters, such seemingly inconsequential acts, yet each one—and so many others—are actually a choice between Life and Death.  We never give those decisions a second thought; they are habits that we have cultivated for years and many times we think they are as necessary as the air we breathe.  And each time we engage in those behaviors, we choose Death over Life.  Fortunately, most of the time when we make that choice we are granted Life instead.  But the day will come, if we flirt with Death often enough, that he will wink back.

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