On Time

I grew up on a farm where days, weeks and months marched to the beat of Time. Time to plant. Time to hoe, Time to harvest. Time to drink sweet tea on the front porch.

According to the Bible, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV). 

The days of the week drummed a steady beat – wash on Mondays, iron on Tuesdays, clean on Saturdays. My sister Marie and I argued over who would vacuum and who would dust.

As a child, Time wore a frilly dress and sat in our meadow looping daisy chains. Arbellis, my imaginary friend, and I spent long afternoons on the front porch, playing store, using broad-leaved grass for money. My two brothers and two sisters, much older than I, didn’t want me tagging along when they went off swimming or working in the fields.

Sometimes, though, my sisters allowed me to lie with them on a blanket on the lawn as they chattered about boyfriends and fashions. Marie let me sit by her on our bed as she sketched out mail-order art lessons on a drawing board. I painstakingly tried to copy her drawings on a tablet.

Time let me play and think and sometimes long for something to do. I had lots of time to read and walk and visit neighbors.

Then came school days when Time wore a wristwatch. Evenings filled with homework, piano practice and clarinet practice. In high school, Time held a stopwatch and pushed me to type faster and scribble shorthand even faster.

Then came college. Now Time breathed down my back. I wanted to excel at business skills so that I could someday teach them. So, we entered competitions, and I beat Time and won ribbons.

After I married, Time wore an apron and carried a wooden spoon. I mothered and smothered my two little guys by insisting we respect Time. Meals. Practices. Curfews. My boys wore band, football and basketball uniforms, according to Time’s season. They joined Cub Scouts and attended youth group. Time marched much faster than in my childhood.

Not sure how it happened, but my little guys sprouted into big guys. I went back to work. Now Time wore heels and pointed to chalkboards and classroom clocks. Now I held the stopwatch.

Then time got away from me. Before I knew what happened, our sons were in college, then married, then fathers.

Now that I‘m older and a writer, I try to boss Time around. It doesn’t work. Time nudges me to produce. One hundred percent of the articles I don’t send out do not get published. So, I set goals – so many articles a week to send out, so many hours to spend writing. 

I try to control Time, but doctor’s appointments and family matters rip control from my hands. Time wears sneakers and runs.

As I celebrate another birthday, I listen to Time. It tells me:

Enjoy the moment. This is what you got! Forget yesterday. Stuff the regrets. Tomorrow may never come. Sit up and take notice. Listen to music. Sniff a candle. Laugh at yourself.

Enjoy your work. Set goals and check them off if you’re a list-type person. Write a bucket list and work on it.

Enjoy your family and friends. Play with children – yours or someone else’s. Read to them. Share what you’ve learned. Stay in touch with grandkids. Send cards. Call. Text. Keep them on your radar.

Enjoy nature. Feed the birds. Plant flowers. Watch sunrises and sunsets. Sit by the river. Walk in the rain. Play in the snow.

Enjoy the way you’re made. Bless others with your talents and skills. Paint a picture. Play the piano. Write a story.

Enjoy an attitude of gratitude. If you can’t be thankful for what you have, be thankful for what you don’t have. Let God know you appreciate His daily graces.

Thank you, Time, for blessing me through the decades. I haven’t had all the Time I’ve wanted, but I’ve had enough Time for everything important in every season of life. And I must say, Time’s been good to me.