40, with 3 months to live.

Sometimes perspective comes with bad, bad news.

My friend Bettina, who has battled breast cancer for 3 years, found out her cancer has metastasized and spread to her lungs. She turned 40 last summer and won't make it to her 41st birthday.

She's still trying to fight. In a few weeks she'll head out to California to try an experimental medicine program, and perhaps it'll work. Somehow though, I think it's probably the end of the line. That sucks. Bettina is such a vibrant character it's hard to imagine her helpless at all. She's strong, and fearless, and she shouldn't have to go through this.

She shouldn't have to die like this. Not this young.

And unless something goes wrong with my health, I've got a lifetime. Why, when life can be cut so short, am I not using every minute to be thankful for what I have? I should be thankful for even the unhappiest places in my heart because it's all a part of life, and of living.

I can only hope that whatever life there is after death is so much better a ride. I'm not sure what heaven holds, but if it's going to be better than earth it's got to be pretty spectacular. I can't imagine beauty greater than our creation, happiness greater than loving our friends and family, or purpose more than seeking to live well. But it's got to be more. For Bettina, and for everyone else who dies, it has to be more than what we have here if it's going to be heaven.

But I still don't want her to go. Not yet anyway. I want her to live.