Time is the Strangest Thing

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.  ~ 2 Peter 3:8

How it can be the middle of March already? Have you seen those little green sprouts in people's yards?

While I'm thrilled for spring and warmer weather to come, it's as if the calendar is mocking me. "You silly woman, you're behind - again!"

Time…the clock, the calendar, the seasons, the rising and setting of the sun. 

Our finite minds need to measure it. Even still, it can trick us. 

For example, when I was in my twenties and even my thirties, I thought my fifties were eons away. 

Eons.

Now that I’m half way through my fifties, I don’t dare make the same mistake and pretend that I can’t imagine my seventies. Lesson learned. I can't stop a new decade or even slow it down.

But I do sometimes wonder how it is that I arrived here so quickly. 

My husband Jeff and I have been parents for 31 years. (The most blessed years of my life for sure) So it makes sense to me to approach this mystery not by age, but by parenting seasons.

If you’re not a parent, I hope you don't mind indulging me this simple analogy . . . 

When our two sons were little and I was a stay at home mom, time did not fly by. 

Repeat. Did not fly by. 

That’s because I was trying to do 100 things in an hour. One hundred seemingly necessary things.

Raising babies and toddlers was precious to me, yes, but undeniably exhausting. I’d fall into bed wondering how I was going to do it all over again the next day. 

When our sons were in elementary school and old enough to be busy with sports and music and friends, time sped up. 

It was great fun to witness their games, their concerts, and have their friends over. There were meals together and stories about school, and chats at bedtime. That parenting season was rich and full, and for the most part, seemed to drift by at an enjoyable pace. 

Which brings us to high school. Time didn’t just fly by. It was more like a blur. 

Our van went in the driveway, out of the driveway, in the driveway, out of the driveway. 

Thank goodness for photos that remind us of all their events, their special moments, their milestones. Those photos assure me, "Yes, it all really happened."  

It's as if time was our king and we were the subjects. Meals together at home happened less often. Moments for just the four of us were rare. 

And college? How did time feel during their college years?

Sort of like watching fireworks. You wait excitedly for them to begin. Once they start, you wait for the next reunion with them to burst into the sky. Those years began with great anticipation and ended with pride, clouded by the disbelief that they were over. 

(I totally sound like my Dad right now! He was a reflective soul who pondered things like time.) 

It's not that time is necessarily our enemy. But it does march on. There's no changing that. And eventually, we all find ourselves stumped at how quickly it passed us by. 

But that's what makes time so precious. We know it never stops for us, and so we do our best to make friends with it.

To give each day a chance to matter.  

With all the kindness in my heart, I pray that today you will witness someone's laughter. Better yet, be the one that makes them laugh. Or dry their tears. Listen for a little while. See beauty and point it out. Sing in the kitchen. Dance with your child. Show appreciation for your mate. Reach out to a friend. Smile at the elderly person in the grocery store. 

Above all, pray. Thank God for all of it. The mundane, the spectacular, the difficult and the easy.

Because all of it marches on. 

The sound of your laughter, your smile

These things are never changing

But Monday I blink, and it's Friday

I wish we could slow it down

Saturday, Sunday, now Monday

Another week starting over

Seconds to minutes to hours

Here's what I've found

Time is illusion

Time is a curse

Time is all these things and worse

But our time is now, oh yes

our time is now

Let us sing before our time runs out

(lyrics from Our Time is Now by Amy Grant)

He Called her Jeanie

(The writer's grandfather. And loving Dad to Jeanie.)

It was 1931.

Babies were not supposed to be born to single mothers.

When a young woman found herself “in that condition”, she was sent away.  

Far away.

Not spoken about.

And there was shame. A lot of shame.

So what about the child? Innocent…having no part in the means of her existence.  

God, in His mercy, had a plan. Long before she ever was, He formed a family of broken pieces. An abandoned child, a couple unable to conceive.

He was a furniture delivery man. She was a homemaker. They had a garden.

She became theirs when she was only three days old. She would be their only child.

Her mother cared for her and taught her things a young lady should know.  Cooking, cleaning, sewing, ironing.

But she was daddy’s girl.

He was the one she went to for everything. He adored her and said yes when mother said no.

He called her Jeanie. His endearing love for her was evident with the adding of “ie’ to her middle name. He always called her Jeanie. Mother only used her first name.

When she wanted a bicycle and mother said no…he bought her one. When she wanted to play the clarinet, mother said no…but he made sure she was in the band. When mother wanted to sew her prom dress, daddy gave her cash for a store bought one…made of the finest satin.

Things that we speak freely about these days were off limit topics back then. Adoption was such a topic. They never told her she was adopted. She learned of it when a family member blurted it out one day.

The icy sting of reality never left. She loved her parents. But now she was curious…and hurting.

She didn’t ask questions. They never knew that she knew. The longing to know her truth grew over the years.

Greater than her longing however, was her love for her father. It would hurt him deeply if he knew she was searching for information about her biological parents. Records from that era were sealed. She was left wondering.

Her daddy lived a long life and closed his eyes for the last time when he was well into his eighties. Jeanie felt lost. Again. Orphaned for a second time.

She faithfully cared for her mother until her passing. But it was him that she missed. He was the one that made her feel loved. And whole.

A law was passed some years later that opened adoption records. She learned who her birth parents were. Teenagers. An unlikely pairing.

Her teen mother later married, having more children. She passed before they could meet. And though contact was made with extended family members, there was no interest in getting acquainted.

Her birth father’s life tragically ended at a young age. No contact was made with his family.

I find it remarkable in this life that some people, who are supposed to love you, can choose to ignore your existence.

While others can choose to love you and leave you yearning for them until your very own last day.

Love bears all things…believes all things…hopes all things…endures all things.

Love never fails.

Love called her Jeanie.

A Café in Arizona and a Table of Laughing Ladies

My husband travels for business. Often.

And it’s always a road trip. He’s driven hundreds of thousands of miles over the years. Nowadays he takes someone along, but years ago he traveled by himself.

He’s had many adventures on all those trips. Helping stranded motorists, seeing the country, making friends, and conducting business.

While I could fill many pages with his experiences, the following is one of my favorites.

He stopped for dinner at a café somewhere in Arizona. He was tired and hungry.

He placed his order and sipped some tea while waiting for the meal.

He and I have always enjoyed some good old fashioned “people watching”, and though I wasn’t along, he took in the different scenarios around the restaurant.

Families, couples, a few sitting at tables alone like him, and a table full of older ladies talking and laughing.

He settled his focus on them. They were having so much fun! He decided that they must have been friends for a long, long time. There was an obviously deep bond between them. And though he wasn’t at their table, he was having fun just watching them.  

His attention shifted to the steaming plate of enchiladas set before him. He was hungry after all.

Often times he drove longer than he should before stopping to eat. And today was no exception. It was a really good meal.

The check arrived. He left his tip on the table and stretched his legs as he stood. On his way to the counter to settle his bill, he passed by the table of ladies…still sitting there and still having a wonderful time.

He paused to say hello. He told them that it was so nice to see them talking, laughing and enjoying each other.

They laughed some more and honestly…I’m thinking they may have thought he was flirting with them a little. And then, he did it.

What I’ve seen him do so many times before.

He picked up the check from the corner of their table and announced that he wished to bless them by paying for their dinner.

Their excitement and disbelief was hard to hide. They thanked him profusely for his kindness.

He assured them that watching their good time helped him to miss his family a little bit less.

And so, he wished them a good evening and went on his way. I imagine that they sat a little longer to talk about him and what he did.

That’s how he rolls. A table full of ladies, people sitting alone, police officers, military personnel, homeless. He’s paid for dinners all over this country.

Sometimes they know it was him…like in this story. Other times, he just quietly asks the server for someone else’s bill.

His heart is kind and he looks for ways to help others. He doesn’t really tell anyone about it. He likes to do things out of the spotlight.

There are no records to keep after all. Just do good.

In Acts 10:38 we read that Jesus himself “went around doing good”. We’re to be as comfortable helping a stranger as we are helping a friend.

Look for your own way. We all feel prompted at times. And the more often we follow through, the more often the prompting will come.

I promise that while you’re doing good for another, your heart will be full too.

A Really Good Mentor Lives On, Even After They're Gone

About this time last year, my husband and I attended the funeral service (life celebration) of one of my mentors.

It was a picture perfect day. The sky was that intense blue dotted with bright white clouds. The sunshine was warm on my back and the breeze soft on my face. The white church sat on a hill, nestled in the trees. The doors were open and the atmosphere calming.

If a picture paints a thousand words, then this picturesque setting seemed fitting for the man we were about to grieve. And celebrate.

The man who's temperament always brought peace to my spirit.

That's how I first knew that he had the power to mentor me, without even trying. His words, body language, and actions were never intimidating. Quite the contrary. Like so many others, I wanted to be around him.

I could name those things that make a good mentor, which he was. You know, things like sound advice, integrity in his own life and an attitude of putting others before himself.

But the quality he had that others didn't, took me a while longer to learn and understand.

He was a man of surrender.

Yes, surrender.

It's such an odd concept in our culture of pursuit and accomplishments.

In fact, most of us (men or women) long to prove our worth to others. Look! See how smart I am? How capable? How good I am at this or that?

Now I'm certain he must have struggled with pride, as we all do. But more often than not, he found a way to lay his pride down for the bigger picture, the better good.

He would clearly share his position, but without insistence. He gave others room to find their way.

You see, this is the profound dichotomy I learned from this mentor of mine. The surrender he sought each day is exactly what made him bold, brave and strong. It's exactly what made him victorious in the end.

Whatever was for the good of the whole, or the glory of God, he surrendered his will. More often than not.

So there we were. Sitting in the pews, the tears streaming down my face.

Tears of a grateful heart for having learned so much from this humble man.

The service was similar to his life - simple, yet profound. The following prayer hung in his home and was his favorite. His daughter read it to us, with the same resolve her father had. And it goes like this:

The Covenant Prayer

I am no longer my own but yours.

put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;

put me to doing, put me to suffering;

let me be employed for you, or laid aside for you,

exalted for you, or brought low for you;

let me be full, let me be empty;

let me have all things, let me have nothing;

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

you are mine and I am yours.

And the covenant now made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven.

Amen.

In loving memory and tribute to the mentor who taught me surrender. Your many lessons, so unassuming, are forever with me.

Reverend Doug Fraley - born to eternal life May 25, 2016