I have been thinking a lot about time.
How fast and fleeting it can be.
How generous and magnificent is its wonder.
And what a thief it can become.
I’ve been digging into deep contemplation, as the season changes and the air gets heavy.
And I wonder about this thing called time.
How does it happen?
The magic of it all.
One day you are staring into the eyes of your man before the wedding begins, and he spends that fleeting first moment wiping the atrocious amounts of snot off your face as you cry…
You remember every single tissue used.
Love fills and feeds.
In that moment.
And the through the years.
From a man of few words.
Because ‘words’ are my love language.
So he gives.
And I am full.
And time presents itself in stiff rigid hands that seem to not budge when we beg.
Then in an instant, a decade has passed.
Blurry, saturated in shades of memories.
Or we grip so tightly to the hands that tick too fast, wishing and willing them to stop for just this moment.
Because we are afraid it will never come again.
But what we begin to learn-
Is that each new moment has its own magic.
Moments that become gifts.
There are moments big and small. And sometimes… the small have more power than the big.
If we let them.
You know the ones?
The moments that whisper, not scream.
They catch us off guard.
Because we weren’t even looking for them.
Oh, how I love those moments.
But the big ones?
They are pretty cool too.
And as time pulls us forward, more magnificent wonders appear…
Funny how we rarely capture the bad moments.
I like that…
Because although we can linger on them too, Time has this power to heal.
Just enough to lessen the pain.
So we can embrace the good.
And although we don’t display the mess beneath the marvelous, all those moments tie together to knit the perfect fabric, dressing our lives.
Each thread means something…
Even the shredded unraveling frayed pieces become part of the masterpiece.
You wouldn’t think for a minute that these were the hardest years of their life, now would you?
I thank God for all those gaping holes of grappled time.
Because as suffering seems to do-
It grows grace and gratitude.
I live deeper because of them.
I wonder, do you?
Oh the joy.
That’s what I lean toward.
Even in the midst of…
There’s still lots of those.
And we intentionally capture the victory when it comes.
Because without hope?
There is no Triumph.
And as time continues it’s tricks of magical wonder…
We can linger in a day, and it turns to weeks…
Memories fade into snippets of photos and bits of stories.
Holding on to Time is futile.
It will slip through your hands…
But it begs us to cherish it.
The clock that ticks by with the power all its own.
We must bask in it.
Or lose it.
Because the gift of time?
Is just that.
It’s magical, really.
If you wade in the wonder of it all…