A bottle opened too long can lose its edge. So can we — if we don’t guard what matters.
After I started collecting bourbon, I went into my pantry one day to look at the bottles that were hidden in the back. I found a couple I had almost forgotten I had.
The first was an old screw-top Antique 107. At one time, that would have been a bottle worth savoring. But by the time I found it, there was almost nothing left. It was basically dry.
The other was an Eagle Rare 10-year. That one still had a little left in it, but what remained was watery and lifeless. I don’t know exactly what happened. It had been there for years. Maybe the seal wasn’t tight. Maybe it had been exposed to too much heat. Maybe it had just been opened, pushed to the back and forgotten.
Whatever happened, something that had once been rich and worth enjoying had faded into something barely recognizable.
The only thing salvageable was the bottle itself.
That image has stayed with me, because I think that’s a dangerous picture of the way life can work. Not all damage happens in one dramatic moment. Sometimes we don’t shatter. We evaporate.
A little joy fades. A little tenderness dries up. A little faith, hope, wonder and love slip away almost unnoticed. We leave parts of ourselves uncorked and unguarded, and then one day we wonder why we feel thin, watered down or empty.
I don’t think most people lose what matters all at once. A marriage doesn’t usually go cold in a single day. A faith doesn’t usually dry up overnight. A calling doesn’t usually disappear in one bad decision. A heart doesn’t usually harden in one moment.
It happens slowly. We stop tending what once mattered. We assume it will always be there because it once was. We push it to the back of the pantry of our lives and tell ourselves we’ll get back to it later.
Later becomes years. Then we reach for something we thought we still had, only to realize it doesn’t taste the same anymore.
Scripture says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
That’s not just poetic advice. It’s a warning.
