Time

"When will I be 9 Mama?" Hannah asks. "I can't wait any longer!"

Life is fast these days. We talk about how fast the months and years go by, how fast the kids grow. We like life fast; fast food, fast Internet, fast service-no waiting. We want everything now.

I can be a lot like that. I want tomorrow so I can do this or that, I want the kids to go through one phase or another. I fly through my days not even realizing what I did, what I ate, what I thought, how I lived.

Little faces of my beloved children ask how much longer-to the restaurant, to the park, to their next birthday. Heavy sighs come, to long, can't wait any longer!

Looking back, some things came slowly. A little longer nap, a little less food, a few shallow breaths. Why so slow that we didn't notice?

Why are we so caught in the rush of life that we don't see the creeping of death?

Time goes to fast, and it needs to slow down. We don't know how much time we have left with him, a month, a year, a day? It won't be enough time. I am trying to stop ticking off the days in an endless blur of movement. How do I stop the moments to make them lasting memories? I focus on making the pictures of real life stay in my head.

Life has seasons, times, changes.

There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.


How do I learn to laugh and dance in a season of mourning? If I slow down, will I see the moments, the miracles in the flying of time? I need to catch the real living in the time of dying, the gradual decline. To really see the last things, the first times, the sweetness of love and laughter.

To savor the sacred moments of life.

God fills every day with holy, sacred moments. These are the real living, the things that will last through the declining.