2014/02/23

Loud Ticking

In two weeks I will be on Mexican soil.

As my trip gets closer, it becomes both more real and less real. As details fall into place, I have seen God working. In just two weeks I will leave home and move to a foreign country for a few months. This is really going to happen: unless something drastic causes me to call off the plans, my flight is locked in; nothing is hindering me; this is gonna happen.


Yet at the same time, I can hardly believe this is reality. I am leaving home for the next few months. I'm going to a place I've never been. The amazing opportunity overwhelms me. Often, I get so caught up in the joy of it I forget this is actually happening. Two Sundays from now I'm going to church in Guadalajara.

As I see my flight out fast approaching, I see my "lasts" fly by. Last youth group. Last Sunday at my church. Last time I'll see a friend. Last time I hang out with my brothers. (At least for the next few months.) All of a sudden I realise all the relational time I've wasted, and all I have been able to use maximally. It inspires me to use my time well. If you strip me of my talents and abilities, family, possessions, etc. (like Job), what have I but time? Time is the universal gift given to mankind, yet simultaneously the universal hindrance.

Time is a tool to be used, misused, abused, or lie fallow--unused.

Yesterday, my parents bought a clock. It ticked so loud I had to close my bedroom door and two other doors between me and it, just so I could sleep. While I love a steady rhythm, I can't stand the "tick, tick". It sounds like the clock is screaming at me, reminding me how fast time is traveling, warning me. There's no way to ignore time or make it tick slower. You can't sleep unless you take a moment of silence and take steps to put the clock far away. The ticking will keep you wide awake like that water drip torture.

When I was little, Mom would take my siblings and me to the park. At the end, she would give us a five minute warning and tell us to do what we wanted to before we had to leave. Then she'd sing:

"Five more minutes, give me five more minutes, five more minutes to play. Five more minutes, give me five more minutes, five more minutes to swing." Then: "Four more minutes, give me four more minutes, four more minutes to play." And so on.

She gave us a last chance to make good use of the time we were given. I can hear her sing that song every day. 

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