I’m wanting to write some profound and moving tribute to Jim Cox or at least capture the mood of his packed memorial yesterday afternoon, where people from all parts of his life rose and shared how the joy and love he expressed every day affected them—even (or especially) when he was dying of brain cancer. A member of our meeting said that Jim thought that once he was in the “other dimension” that he called heaven, he could help people with their dying, but she noted that he was already helping them with their living.

As I think about that message, sitting at my computer on a Sunday morning, I realize that the best tribute I could give Jim would be to go make breakfast for my kids and not take for granted a single second with them.