I have heard, though I have not consulted legal authorities, that the last words spoken on your death bed carry weight in court. It makes sense that with all pretense evaporated, and the immediacy of facing your Maker, people save their depleted energy for what matters. 

Jesus chose seven messages to complete his ministry. My father encouraged me to commit them to memory back in high school, and my husband wove them into a song, They do encompass a range of emotions, whose scope captures the human experience as well. 

Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

I thirst.

Woman, behold your son. Behold your mother.

Today you will be with me in paradise. 

Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

It is finished. 

The church service John is conducting tomorrow addresses these words, and my efforts to lead music will as well. Four of the songs will be ones we composed, whose lyrics are taken from scripture. 

Each of these seven Last Words touch me deeply, and I am not on death's door. At sixty five I consider myself to be in the loading area, with a few flights scheduled to depart before mine. Yet the distillation of those decades is contained here. Forgiveness, longing, relationships, anticipation, trust, despair, and acceptance. 

The glaring absence of things like status, and controlling others clarifies how I can best use the time I have left.