There were plenty of things competing for my time this
particular morning. The guest bedroom
needed to be finished, the grass cut, boxes and boxes of accumulated stuff (our
family time capsule) needed
unpacking. Stuff that we dragged two thousand miles across the country because
they contained items we just couldn’t live without, although many remained
unpacked from the move previous to our most recent which happened nearly 5
years ago. All together some of our
treasure trove has not seen the light of day in over 4 years! Yet,
we drraaaggg on!
Time, however defined, seems to be the one commodity no one
seems to have enough of in order to accomplish the things which, more times
than not, end up inscribed upon the ever evolving, enigmatic list known as “tomorrow’s activities.” There is a problem that seems obvious to me;
tomorrow’s activities never become today’s reality. I was about to receive a hard lesson on
“today’s reality.”
As we approached the
porch we saw her as she came through the front door to greet us. Her frame was fragile; her pace burdened and
slow. The past 30 days had almost taken
her 75 year old body out of this world as they invoked simultaneous heart and
kidney surgery. Adorned by the bathrobe
that had been her only viable choice from her wardrobe since she returned from
the hospital, she led us into her home.
I was amazed that she was walking at all! She began recounting the
“Bible –talk” she and a friend had recently enjoyed with each other, stopping a
couple of times to catch her breath.
As I sat the box of groceries on the kitchen table her
husband came in from the back yard. I
was surprised to have seen him outside as we pulled into the driveway. Several months ago he was diagnosed with
acute esophageal cancer. Yet, here he
was, mulling around the back yard playing with weed eaters and lawn mowers like
it was just another Saturday. He has
been under the care of Hospice for as long as I have known him. To look at him you wouldn’t imagine that his
next breath could very well be his last.
It made me terribly cognizant of every breath I had ever wasted or
expelled which was seasoned with selfishness, bitterness or resentfulness. Somehow I felt as if he relished every one
given him.
I must admit that it
was uncomfortable to sit in their presence for the short time we did. There are many reasons for this, most of which
are selfish. However, my life was
changed! How was it changed? I was exposed for the fraud that I am and was
forced to take a long hard look! It has
something to do with tongues of angels and clanging cymbals - I think you know
the reference. My perspective was altered. I felt like a fat cat enjoying a steak dinner while watching an infomercial on "Feed the Children." I cannot shake the feeling; I'm not sure I want to!
It is seldom that anyone takes the time to stop in and chat
with these two. We all have our lives to
live and check-lists to satisfy. I have
the dreadful sensation that one day I will wake up and realize that my life has
passed unfulfilled. All of my “to do”
lists will be long forgotten – except for the one that really matters – that one
will haunt me until the day I decide to do what it calls for me to do: to
consider the welfare of my brother as being more important than my own.
There are only three things that I can do with time; waste
it, spend it or invest it. It all hinges
on what I choose to do with the one moment I have in my possession. I will never know what any given day might
have to reveal, or what hidden blessings lurk behind its veiled face until I
choose to open my eyes and extend my hand to mine the opportunities contained
within. Of the many moments hidden I
must apprehend each one while they are still embedded within the fertile womb
of possibility. This I must do
before the fangs of the great nothing have a chance to inject their life
depleting venom into the moment, my
moment.
The greatest question
for me is not “what am I going to do?” but rather “what am I doing?”
