Here I am worrying about summer. It’s the same position I was in last year, and the year before. The stress of getting all my school work done while making sure my miscellaneous responsibilities are being met; the worry that I won’t find a relevant internship or job opportunities during the summer; the frustration and disappointment in myself for not managing my time better, and, consequentially, not having more time to put into applications—it’s all so familiar. This President’s Day, I worked on my resume, did four loads of laundry, made a dent in my homework pile, tried to figure out the riddle of state and federal taxes, and, of course, took about six different Facebook breaks. During one of these breaks, I read a few statuses from friends back home and learned a high school acquaintance had died. He was a football player, a sturdy individual with a subtle smile and a memorably boisterous sense of humor. Admittedly, I didn’t know him well; I had a class or two with him and saw him frequently in passing, and that was the extent of our acquaintanceship. But I knew him well enough to not completely grasp the fact that he wasn’t on this earth anymore. So often, I get so busy worrying about fulfilling my responsibilities with school, with finances, with what I’m doing in the future that I forget about the gift that is the present. I take for granted that each day and each moment on this earth is never guaranteed. Proverbs 27:1 says, “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.” Am I going to burn all my textbooks, drop out of college, and shout “YOLO”? No. Verses like Proverbs 6:6-11 and Titus 3:14 warn against unproductive lives. But I can use these verses to understand how to most effectively live each day for Christ. The balance of preparing for the future while living and enjoying the present has always been a struggle for me; I’ve always had the problem of worrying and living for the future and trudging through the “now.” But when I read about my former classmate’s death, I was reminded of how short our lives really are. My responsibilities didn’t seem so big when I realized he won’t have the opportunities to apply for internships, laugh with his family, or pet cats anymore. I don’t even know if he’s in Heaven, or if he ever accepted Christ as his Lord. The same day that I did homework, laundry, and unfinished internship applications was the same day a guy from my graduating class lost his life in a car crash. Another RIP was posted on Facebook, another family began its five stages of grief, another mother outlived her son. And here I am, worrying about summer.