Skip to main content

Some Words about Time


 Yesterday, Felicity and I had a late lunch by the river. I sat eating my gyro and she stood pointing out the squirrels and birds, enacting a slow dance towards the animals and back to me.

“Squiwell,” she said.

“Burd,” she said.

Time stretched forever.

How is that time can both stretch forever so that the moments pass one sleepy point at a time, and yet they go so fast? —my last post was in September. Felicity is now twenty months old. Her words are coming, rapidly and more distinct.

Words hold power.

Today, we woke up to discover our water heater broke. I used my words to upbraid a poor, home warranty customer service representative for telling me, “Hot water is a convenience. We will not fix it until Monday. It’s not an emergency.” With righteous anger, I detailed how this action showed they only want profit. How dare they deny me, my favorite modern convenience? In a moment, thirty minutes had passed in heated conversation, but the water in our house remains cool. She just did her job—and I wasted time.

My words will teach Felicity to use words and I want to teach her to fill her time with words worthy of the moment.

More than modeling, I too have a commitment as a Christ-follower to be more like him in the words I choose.


Lord sanctify my moments. Redeem my time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Good Friday Reflections

Tonight, squished between my eldest two children, I read bedtime stories on my big bed—a move we made because my pregnant body filled up the whole toddler bed leaving no room for my story-ready children. We started with a book on friendship told from the perspective of a shy chipmunk who didn’t want to leave his mommy. Then we moved on to a story about Peteriffic building a block tower high into the sky. We finished with our Bible reading and knowing that we are in Holy Week I then showed my kids pictures of the Lord’s Supper and Good Friday. I told them that Jesus died so that everyone could be raised from the dead, and then, “Boom.” I was right in the middle of a conversation I wasn’t expecting to have on this ordinary bedtime, with late daylight streaming softly into my bedroom window.    “Will we all die, Mama?” asked Gabe, my three-year-old.    “Yes, but Jesus came so that we can live again. We will be raised from the dead—just like Him.”    “Will it be a long time until we get ra

What to do in Case of Pandemic

“Gabe when you are afraid, will you trust in God?” the small, sincere voice of my daughter, Felicity, drifted to me as I sat on the couch, legs folded under me, looking at my creative writing projects. They were tucked in bed and should have been sleeping.  My son’s voice, largely ignoring Felicity, hummed and thrummed as he made his toy cars vroom along in what sounded like a vaguely destructive manner. Then her voice continued, singing the lyrics, “When I am afraid I will trust in you, I will trust in you, I will trust in you.”              The interchanged warmed my heart. Yes, I want them both to trust in God when they are afraid.  And I want to trust in God when I am afraid.  And I want someone to remind me to trust in God when I’m tempted not to trust in Him.  **             I began this post several weeks ago when ordinary life thrummed and hummed. As I revisit this story, ordinary has shifted and changed and the hum as I and many knew it has shifted. The

The Adventure Begins Very Early on the Morning of July 15th

Note: In-N-Out is the first place I go when I arrive back in California. The California chain tastes like coming home. My day had been planned. I was going to walk with friends. Have coffee with my mom and a phone date in the evening. Followed by my husband asking, “what should we have for dinner.” And me responding “In-n-Out.” I’ll admit it I did exercise in hopes of expediting the labor process, but as I had been told, “babies will come when they will.” So I laid my plans: Plan A the aforementioned walk etc. and Plan B— Have a baby. When my mom arrived, full of more energy than I’m used to her having (a contrast with my labored lack of energy), it was apparent that Plan B was in effect. We were most definitely not going to coffee. I was going to have a baby. Labor… it’s not fun. Epidurals… they are a wonderful invention. It was late evening. I’d hoped they’d let me push on the 14 th . The history nerd in me was caught by the idea of having a baby on Bastille D