“How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”
“At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a friend, a child, or a parent.”
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
It occurs to me often, these days, that time is slipping through my fingers. I had so many plans when I was young–so much I intended to accomplish. And though many would say I’ve done a lot with my time, I feel the lack of it immensely. Gone are the days when I felt comfortable flitting away the hours watching mindless entertainment on the television. Now every moment seems precious, as it should have all along.
Each minute now, I make a conscious decision… What should I do with this next segment of time?
It’s like having a huge cask full of money at the beginning of your life. It seems bottomless as you reach in and grab handfuls and spend them at will, laughing at the thought of ever running out. Now, when I stir the coins around, I can sometimes feel the grains at the end. Reaching deep inside, I’ve gotten a few splinters under my nails–enough to warn me I’m scraping against the bottom of the barrel.
I’m not saying my time is up, though we’re never guaranteed another day. But I am saying I know I’ve lived a lot more days on this earth than the ones I have remaining. And to make things worse, I recognize the waning of my ability to accomplish all those goals I made in my early days. So each day, the level of money drops inside the barrel, along with the ability to make good use of the available funds.
So remains the question… On what should I spend my time?
Family is at the top of the list. But truly, I know that people are all that matters. Now, I won’t waste my time trying to win favor or popularity, for that stuff is like so much fluffy cotton candy, which packs down to a sticky nothingness. I like deep conversations about important matters, soul-searching talks that spur one to love and sacrifice and selflessness, and laughter-filled chatter that lightens the heart and fills one with delicious memories.
And so, my art, my music, and my writing–all must spring from such a conversation. Even when, as an introvert, I spend my time alone, writing words on a page, I do so with the intent of engaging in a deep conversation or lifting someone’s spirit with laughter and love.
Investing yourself in others is the only way one can make more time. You see, when I spend my time showing love to another human being, a bit of me rubs off and lives on, doing greater things than I ever imagined. And if my written words have any uplifting effect, express God’s love to mankind, or provide a bit of comfort or cheer, my voice can live on as long as the earth abides. And if I’ve taught my children to pass that same love on to others, including their children, my time is limitless.
So my barrel is running low, but it doesn’t drive me to despair. I’m only five books, fifty hugs, and forty minutes of laughter away from immortality.