We stood there looking down at the grave marker, stunned by the coincidence.

Laurencio T. Rojas, Jr.
Texas
PFC US ARMY
Vietnam
3/9/1952-4/23/1972

    My friend had almost the exact same birthdate. Except for the twists of destiny with the draft lottery of 1970, this could be him. Even more compelling was the date. We found Laurencio’s headstone on April 22, 1997—25 years earlier this young man was on the eve of his death in the jungles of Viet Nam.

    We talked about the tragedy of it all. How war is bad. How it affected our whole generation. How it could have easily been us. How Laurencio was a person that mattered. How he must still be missed since his grave had fresh artificial flowers and was clean and neat.

    But then the talk turned personal. 25 years ago, Laurencio only had 24 hours to live. What would I do if I had 24 hours to live? Who would I see? What would do? What would I say?

    Then it struck both of us almost simultaneously: that is all we've got. All any of us gets is one day at a time. We have no guarantees of tomorrow. No assurance of next week. While we can set goals and make plans, bottom line, we can’t insure we'll even have the opportunity to attempt them, much less complete them.

    While goals and plans are necessary to guide our intentions, we must fill TODAY with a sense of urgency. This is THE DAY we have, we may not have another. We are not guaranteed another opportunity to repair a relationship, mend a friendship, help a loved one, speak to our children, make love to our spouse, tell a lost friend about Jesus, or give thanks to God for all he has done.

    We only get one lifetime. That lifetime is made up of small, bite size increments called TODAY. In the scheme of eternal things, in a universe of incalculable proportions, this one thing is clear: TODAY is always the last day God has granted us. We must make use of it, to his glory, because it is his gift and our life.

    So what are you going to do with your last 24 hours?