I spend a lot of minutes thinking about “time.” Such a precious yet fleeting word.
I think about how there never seems to be enough of it. I seem to say, “I don’t have enough time,” on a daily basis.
I don’t have time to excercise. I don’t have time to write. I don’t have time to work. I don’t have time to play.
I think about my children. How time has robbed me of the baby years. How much longer will my daughter hold my hand crossing the street or want me to brush her hair? How much longer will I be able to pick up my son or sing him a bedtime song?
I think of my dad. How his 83 years are creeping up on him. How his body is slower than it used to be. How he can’t hear me as well as he used to. How much longer will he be here to meet me for breakfast or to cry at special events?
I think of my mom. How she will be turning 70 next year. How does that feel to reach such milestones? To know that what lies ahead is far less than what is left behind.
I think of my husband’s grandmother who died a few weeks back. How she had lived 40 years after her husband had died. She had had enough time. Time was far too long.
I think of my husband. How his hair is beginning to have more grey than brown. How his knees betray him on the basketball court. How beautiful it is to watch him grow older. What a precious gift to share with him.
I think of how I would give anything for time to slow down. How it flies by so fast it feels like sand through my fingers. If time did slow, would I notice? Would I then stop to take it all in? Would I then find a balance in work, love, family, play? Would I then be able do the things I have always wanted to do, but didn’t have the time for? Would I exercise or call my mom more?
What a precious commodity, time. What would we pay to have more of it? If we did have more, would we use it wisely?
Recent movies and a very vivid dream that I had, have reminded me that there will come a time when my parents are no longer here, when my children are grown and gone, and when I will loose my husband or he will loose me. Right here and now are the best days of my life.
Time . . . even if I was given more, it would never be enough. How could there ever be enough time to cuddle with my husband? To read to my children? To watch them play? To cook with my mom or chat with my dad? There could never be enough time.
Time. . . so incredibly precious. So, I will hold tighter to the time I have and be present in the moments that pass. I must make a conscious effort to make the time for the things that I love. Time will not make it for me. Moments are only here once. Each is a gift. An unbelievably precious gift. How blessed I am with time.
Today’s lesson in improving my marriage: Stop saying “I don’t have time.” I do. Right here and now.