The first week at my new job has come to a close. I think I'm going to love being a school bus driver. But, since we're all friends, can I confess something here?
I'm utterly exhausted from the 5:30am alarm. What used to be the "5:00 fussies" around dinner... has become the 6pm no-nap-meltdown. The house is a wreck. The laundry is piling up. And by eight o'clock in the evening, I'm too tired to pick up the phone. So my social life is non-existent.
As the days turn into weeks, I know that we will adjust and life will find a new normal. Time will free and we will settle into routine. The house will be cleaned. The laundry will find a place. And eventually I'll be able to stay awake beyond 8:30pm.
But something has gnawed at me the last couple of weeks. It has presented itself in sermons and scriptures. Devotionals and magazine articles. Songs on the radio...conversations in passing. Social media statuses...podcast interviews... And now daily stares me down at my new job.
That noiseless foot...of time.
12,829. That is how many days I have been alive as I type this. That calculates to 307,896 hours. 18,473,760 minutes. Give or take... on this orb floating in space. Your time, thus far, may be more. It may be less. But one things is certain for both of us: Time spent, can not be returned.
As I think of things I want to accomplish on earth; a pristine house and empty laundry baskets aren't real high on the list.
I think of my children: the book I'll recite as pages turn for the thousandth time because it's still a favorite. The playtime I want to have before Barbies and HotWheels aren't cool anymore. The words I want to say, but don't, because surely I'll get another chance. That opportune moment for teaching and correcting, not taken for the rush out the door.
I think of my family and friends: the visit I need to take but have put off far too long. That coffee we're going to meet for. The dish I want to make, but have yet to deliver. The hug that needs to linger just because. The apology, that has yet to escape my lips. The wrong, that is still not right.
Stories I haven't penned; words just waiting to exhale. Paint in tubes, not yet on canvas. That thank you note that has yet to see a postage stamp.
And I become even more aware of time... not because of the gift that still trickles into the hour glass, but that which is already settled. And I'm not sure which one holds more sand.
The Bible refers to our lives as but a vapor. A breath. A mist in comparison to eternity. And it is all we have, to make a difference in the lives of the people around us. We need to seize it. Steward it. And wield it in purpose. So we can stand before it's Giver knowing it was not wasted.
Finding Favour - Slip On By
Do you want to know how many days you've been alive? Check out The Robert D.
2 comments:
I feel this and so often it makes me panicky, wanting to squeeze everything out of a day that I can. I like what Emily Freeman shared in her post at http://chattingatthesky.com yesterday, how each season has its focus and we can't feel guilty for the things we miss when we're putting our all into the task at hand. I pray you'll find your groove soon with the new schedule and that you'll feel grace to leave things undone and go to bed extra early until you're there.
I really enjoyed this article of yours! I have felt this gentle pressure of time on my heart for a long time. My favorite book of the Bible is Ecclesiastes, and King Solomon talks about time so much in that book, likely the reason why I like it so much. I feel like a focus on time is healthy, a sobering thought that each day is a gift. I really felt convicted and encouraged by your words. Darcy is right in that each season has its focus. In fact, focusing on a few things is all I can really do successfully, and not even that at times! :) Teach me to number my days so that I may apply my heart to wisdom. Thanks for this.
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