Speed Up, Slow Down
Take, for instance, the fact my older sister’s daughter is graduating from high school this week. I still remember the day she was born, seeing her wheeled out in the hospital bassinet for everyone in the waiting area to see before quickly being introduced to the first of many pictures taken by her grandparents. And seemingly in the time it takes to inhale, she’s 17 going on 18 and ready to see what is out there for her beyond high school.
Then there’s my younger sister’s 16-year-old daughter, getting ready to go work at a summer camp for kids that will take her away from home for an entire month. (A month!) Her brother (14 years of age) gets taller by the day, and it feels as though an age has passed since the voice of a boy passed his lips.
Oh, and have I mentioned Jeff’s and mine 20th wedding anniversary is this November? How are we already at this point? When my parents celebrated their 20th anniversary, I was approaching my sixteenth birthday. Mom and Dad were in the beginning stages of an emptying nest, while two teenage daughters still at home needed to be reminded often they did not, in fact, know it all.
Perhaps that’s the thing: I’m wondering what I have to show for this point in my life. Jeff and I don’t have kids of our own. I’m not yet a regularly paid writer – and it hasn’t been that many years since I even started feeling comfortable with saying I’m a writer. There seems to be so much to do, yet so much time wasted. It’s like how I find myself eager for our summer holidays to begin while also being apprehensive about how close they are due to a big work project that is not quite yet under way. I try to remind myself I can’t do anything about what is already past; I have now and (hopefully) many tomorrows ahead of me to lay a hold of and still build something of value.
I want more daylight, more hours, for some things to be done already while grasping onto others as they slip through my fingers because I’m not ready for them to change (Not yet!). And I wonder if this is a fight I will ever reach the other side of, or if it’s something that will always be wrestled with in one form or another.
I don’t know. I wish I did, that it was only an easy Google search away.
Teach me, God, to number my days. Because I know I need to be still, but I’m so scared I’ve wasted too much that I fidget and fuss and find it almost impossible to wait.
*Photo Credit: Photo Credit: Toshihiro Oimatsu ©2007 (Flickr via Creative Commons)