A Few Words on Time

My friend, Tim, recently requested that I write on this topic because: "I would like to hear your perspective on this." So, here it goes... 

My time is not my own. It is this weird "wibbly-wobbly" thing that I handle with extreme care and trepidation, that I balance on my fingertips like soapy bubbles and gingerly juggle like lit candles. It is slippery and shifty, like dough, and I do my best to fit it into the little frames and cookie cutters that are other people's lives. It's tautly tied and tangled with outings and who can drive me, bathroom breaks and who can help me, bedtimes and who can stay with me.

When it comes to friendship caregiving, I need and want to respect other's schedules and availability. I feel like I spend an incredible amount of effort and energy to accommodate what is better or best for someone else. I don't want to inconvenience anyone, and I just would like for my life to be so in sync with theirs that it is a natural rhythm for us to be together. So I try to adapt and make it work, to be flexible and gracious and understanding, even when it means I wait longer or start earlier or end later. 

But then there are also deep relational moments that I don't want to rush, don't want to abruptly bring to an end, the kind that are so precious and beautiful that I want to hold on to them a little longer as they restore my soul. And sometimes I sense the need to be still and be present, to really see and hear someone, to give them space and time, too. 

All the while, time marches on and other's schedules have to keep and they are waiting for me, they are expecting me, and I shouldn't let them down, so I really must go. I'm late for a very important date. 

And either way - whether I stay or whether I go - I feel like I'm letting someone down. I don't have enough time to give to everyone as it is needed. And I think sometimes I come across as unreasonable or thoughtless or demanding when I just can't stretch far enough to accommodate someone. But the truth is, there are a lot of moving parts that I'm trying to manage with grace, and I'm not an expert at this thing called life, so sometimes I burst a soap bubble or drop a candle. 

My time is not my own. Every moment is a miracle, a surprise, a blessing, and a gift from God. It's both a joy and struggle to steward it well but minutes, like mercies, are made new every morning, so each day is a chance to share time better than the last. 

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