Whoever said “time marches on” was singularly unimaginative.
Marching is far too rigid, far too precise, far too evenly marked and measured for a concept at once so fluid and intractable.
Ask an Army wife who is counting eternal seconds between phone calls and Skype dates and his lingering touch just how slow it creeps.
Or a momma who is cleaning her empty nest … how it sped away, turbo charged with memories and did I do enough and did I do it well.
I could spend my time here listing more ways … time between paychecks, time without paychecks, time away from babes … time left to live. I’ll never list them all.
So I will spend my time here telling you about my minutes and how they bleed. {Because this is my blog and I get to do that here. And maybe because you are waiting for something too … }
I have at least eleventy billion 3 or 4 different countdowns hovering on the edge of my consciousness … all moving at wildly disconnected speeds.
End of June. A chance to meet our baby boy. Moments that crawl forward, marked by aching backs and Braxton Hicks. And each day that tiny lungs develop and cells grow and limbs flutter is a precious day counted against the fear of loss and the fight for life.
End of July. Vacation … late-night sister chats and cousin hugs and sandy toes and sandy sheets and bicycle trips and homemade ice cream. Can’t come fast enough. So of course, these moments are dawdling too.
Fall-ish. Another deployment. Hurtling at me with the feeling that every time he walks away, every goodbye – the odds markedly decrease that he returns whole – or at all. It’s not rational, but it’s real.
Moments wisped away so fast I am fearful of blinking. I’m terrified I’ll miss the most important minutes. The ones containing ordinary I love you’s and Chutes and Ladders and wrestling matches and kisses that are carefully stored away.
So … as our time not-marches, we count … impatiently, fearfully, carefully.
How do you rail against the movement while you coax it forward?
And stay sane? And unafraid?
How DO you keep those insidious seconds from forming funnel clouds of fear?
I know the Namer and Maker of stars is mindful of me. {Psalm 8}.
Truly, I have different answers for different days, different speeds. They all stem from the Word of Truth. And a desperate, continuous prayer …
| 1. Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah, Pilgrim through this barren land. I am weak, but Thou art mighty; Hold me with Thy powerful hand. Bread of heaven, Feed me now and evermore; Bread of heaven, Feed me now and evermore.2. Open now the crystal fountain, Whence the healing waters flow; Let the fire and cloudy pillar Lead me all my journey through. Strong Deliverer, Be Thou still my Strength and Shield. Strong Deliverer, Be Thou still my Strength and Shield. 3. When I tread the verge of Jordan, Ending �2002 2037 Music (ASCAP). Words by William Williams and Jeremy Casella. |
… To bid my anxious fears goodbye.
The reality is, each minute matters. Every tortuous, speedy, idle second is a gift from a God who plans them all.
I don’t want to waste them being afraid of what they will bring.
Because when my obstinate, obdurate seconds finally slip away, I know, I know, I’ll be safe on Canaan’s side.
~M.
{A few of our ordinary, precious moments}.
Argh. My husband finds out this week the results of a yearlong grad school scholarship application process. And a ‘yes’ is unlikely but will radically change our life. And a ‘no’ means we have to be ready to PCS in 20 days. There has been some pretty anxious waiting around these parts recently.
Not at all as profound as the things you’re waiting on, but thanks for the encouragement.
Oh … still hard waiting!! I will be praying for a yes.
Waiting… right there with ya. 🙂
And can I just say that I am OBSESSED with your daughter’s curls?! I’m praying for some red ones like that on Molly’s head. 😉
Thanks Jenn. I am still planning a park date if this weather cooperates … I’m waiting for some dang sunshine. Funny thing is I thought about you when I wrote this … isn’t that husband of yours due home soon? Thanks for reading. Also, I am obsessed with my daughters hair too. I can’t take enough pictures of it.
This is so beautiful! I have been stuck on writing mine and now I just don’t know how I could possibly follow! Well done!
Isn’t the beauty of this that we all have different voices … I so want to hear yours ….
Waiting until June when I can be with you all again for a super duper visit!
Poignant reflection on time’s sometimes excruciatingly slow move…and makes me think of the panicky fast too. I bet the moments/days when your husband is home feel much faster than the ones when he is deployed.
I love you,my sweet Mo-I will be praying for yours and mine-love you