Our Journey in Time

 

“Our journey in time”. That phrase has provided considerable food for thought lately. Think about it. Prior to conception, we experienced no time. After death, there is no time, or at least as we understand it now. That thought can make a person feel either extraordinarily special or totally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

We tend to think of time as endless. But is it? It isn’t endless for any of us. We have a certain number of revolutions around the sun laid out and no more. Is time infinite? Or perhaps it is the lack of time that is beyond our understanding. We can only measure that which we experience. We have memories and history that we can  recall from the past, but we can’t change those things. And we hope for a future… but it comes with no guarantees.

So what exactly is “our journey in time”? Is it where we go? Or what do we do? Or how long we live? It’s a conundrum for the most part. Fascinated by the idea of time travel, it would be interesting to see the land as it was before man arrived, to experience all of its natural rawness, or perhaps soak in the perils of the pioneers. Interestingly, my desire to go forward in time isn’t as enticing as the past. Probably because I can’t envision the future. While the past is documented, the future is unknown.

My “journey in time” has been seventy-two years up to this point. Had I realized the trip would be so short, I would have striven for more. I would have filled my life with things that matter early on. Things like faith, family, education, travel, adventure, even fun. Life is much too short for nothing but work. And in the end, most accomplishments will disappear and be forgotten.

Years ago, God’s timing was explained to me as a parade. I can only see what is in front of me. There are memories of what has already passed by, but I can not foresee what is coming. God, on the other hand, views the it from a vantage point high above the parade. He sees it in its entirety… beginning, middle, and end, all in one fell swoop. He operates outside of time. I actually find a great deal of comfort in that.

My remaining time is pocked with fragility. Bodies decay, minds wander, life becomes difficult with the onset of disease and infirmity. Perhaps that is why there is a desire with the elderly for the hourglass to run down and time on this earth to cease. To be free of the constraints that hold us and find a freedom we never knew, or could have possibly understood, looks heavenly.

It is often said that life is short. It’s far too short to measure in any human way. Time on this earth is not even a nano-second in the entirety of the universe. And yet, somehow I was created to make a difference. Will that difference change the world, probably not. But things can change in this “moment of time” that I have been blessed with. Will I create artful masterpieces, or build a business empire, or be the first to leave this planet? Maybe… or maybe not. But perhaps my life will have an impact on someone else. Feeling deeply, loving greatly, sharing profusely without considering the cost, lifting others out of the mire, or maybe providing a guiding light for those who are just now entering into their “moment in time” is a calling. It is a big job, one we have all been given from the day of conception.

How have you spent your “moment in time”? What have you accomplished on your journey? Every day is an opportunity to change your world! Do it! You were born for a time such as this! (Esther 4:14) Make your “journey in time” count!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

What if we only made right turns in life? I recently read an article about a person who did just that. Left turns were out of the question, so he drove many extra miles going around blocks so that he would never have to make a left turn. In a weird, convoluted way, I can see a modicum of sense to his strategy. Left turns can be scary. Without a light and little arrows, left turns probably cause more accidents than

right turns.

As I age, left turns are becoming more frightening. They are risky. And while I feel free to take risks with some things, other things are too frightening to tackle head on. And so I make a lot of right turns to get where I want to be. And then, after the fact, I discover what I wanted wasn’t that difficult to access after all. While right turns aren’t the shortest way to get to my destination, they do get me there eventually. Unfortunately, I have wasted cherished time living in fear.

Have you ever tackled what appeared to be an insurmountable mountain because the thing you desired was on the other side? A thing that could not be attained without going over the hill. All the right turns in the world would not ensure arrival to the other side. Somewhere, sometime, it will take biting the bullet and making a hard left to make progress.

Such an experience hit me this week. As some of you know, I have been working on a novel for several years, and I “felt” I was close to getting it published. I submitted a sample to an editor only to have it come back covered in revision marks and some subtle, yet astute, remarks about my writing skill, or lack thereof. “Of course, there is hope for everyone” was the biggest hammer to fall. The bottom line – a rewrite is in order. I spent two days in despair. I cried, wallowed in self-pity, prayed, and then I picked myself up and decided that right turns were getting me nowhere. My only chance was to suck it up and make a left into the middle of rush hour traffic with no lights to save me. Look both ways and charge. This means I will have to change everything! I will have to learn new things, accept others judgment and know how, and go back to the beginning – again. The safety of right turns will not work in this case. Only the risk of a left turn will get me where I want to be.

Left hand turns are hard. It means having to step out, take direction, make choices and learn to fly all over again. A lesson landed in my lap yesterday. My cat brought home a little bird. Fortunately, she never hurts them, but the whole adventure of rescuing the bird was a lesson for me. While not hurt, the little bird lost many feathers in his scuffle with the cat, me, the window and the blinds. He was scared to death. Once I caught him, I could feel his thumping little heart about to burst through his chest. So I gently held him, took him outside and let him fly away. I get it, little bird. I was caught in my own trap (arrogance), I lost a lot of feathers (pride), and then ended up in God’s gentle and secure hand. When the time is right, He will allow me to fly and accomplish all that He intends me to do.

So right or left? That’s a decision we all must make in our lives, probably many times over. When residing in Small-Town, Utah, there was an elderly man who was a driving menace. According to him, he had been turning left at that particular corner for his rather lengthy lifetime. Everyone knew that. Hence there was no reason to use his blinker. A turn signal would have been very helpful to those of us who had not known him since year one! Could there be times when a lack of directional blinkers in my life could affect yours in some bizarre way? It’s possible. Life is filled with mountains and valleys, lefts and rights, ups and downs. The biggest left turn in life is recognizing that it is there, and then we get to choose – the easy road or the one filled with potholes.

So the next time you sit in traffic, consider your driving skills. Not on the road, but in life. Will right turns give you fulfillment and satisfaction? Or are they just safety and refuge from the “what ifs” faced on a daily basis. Do you see left turns as frightening? Or will you choose to slide around the corner on two wheels, missing the other cars, avoiding the ditch and then squeal off toward your destination? Don’t take me literally, but bring it to mind when faced with those difficult decisions in life. Right or left?

Just Writin’ on the River Road