I can begin to see how quickly a life passes. I nearly feel life's vapor under my breath slowly, yet aggressively passing with each lived moment. Time marching on as it goes making a life into a living history and telling the tales of love lived out in worn denim and caramel colored boots. Days, years compiling to wrinkles and stories of wonder and failure. Time-a lifetime- whether short or extended, is all the time a soul gets in this one ride around the universe we experience. And then, by some great gift of grace and bending low, we are ushered into a time with no limits we cannot grasp with earthly minds.
But until then, here where days are numbered and bodies wither, time is the gift of the now. Time to breathe and stretch in this graceful skin stretched over our bones, time to feel the warmth of a glowing evening sun, time to touch warm salt splashes from the ocean, to experience frozen bits of snow nestled like glittered confetti in eyelashes...time for all of these. Time to feel the rush of love's embrace, time to feel the empty in the lonely nights waiting for the unknown to arrive, time to hear the music that stirs a soul, time to feel the cotton softness of welcomed sheets beckoning exhaustion to take a pause for relief. Time to know and be known. Time for the good, the heartbreaking, the lovely, the tragedy. For this present moment there is time, and time is the gift that beckons the recipient to treasure it in ways that may seem futile. Treasuring time by sitting in solitude while bathing in the song of violins. Time to stare into the face of a child learning these ways of living. There is this moment to study the bark on a tree, the delicate silken petals of the evening rose, time to savor the feeling of a moment ushered in by the beauty of everything around it.
And then...in this pausing grateful experiential moment where life floats like a crystalline bubble in the palm, there is just enough time to find the Great God of the Universe who bottled this moment and stored up golden rays of sunshine just so it could splash across your very face. There is time to experience the holy in suspended dew drops on spring leaves. There is the beckoning of pursuit of the Creator that knitted your heart, your days, your every moment together for such a time to meet Him in all His splendor as it rests on the freckled nose of the child at your waist. There He is, the Creator and Keeper of moments whispering like the breeze in the valley to find Him, know Him, walk in His love and learn of His ways.
Then, and only then, time hangs in the balance and extends itself like heavy droplets from a summer spigot that hasn't yet come to fullness. Time pauses and the Holy greets each heartbeat like a dignitary entering the palace walls. This is time with God, and there is no end to this time. He never ceases to provide it in abundance, and He stands ready to invite you in to find Him, find time, find pause, find Holy where He alone can fill a soul with all the time it will ever need.