Just because… someday he’ll go off to college and the army guys will be in a box in the crawl space.

And, then who will guard my window?

Time. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. How should I spend it? How can I make the most of it? Where am I wasting it? Do I spend it in a way that reflects my priorities?

Time is one of our most precious commodities. It’s unlike any other unit of measurement because once it’s spent there is no way to get it back. We can refill a glass of water or replenish the cupboards with fresh stocks from the grocery. We can even regroup and work to earn more money to fill empty bank accounts. All in all, we humans are pretty adept at finding alternative resources when current ones dry up.

But, time is wholly different. Once time is spent, it is gone. There’s just no way to get it back.

I’ve really been wrestling with that reality lately. I don’t like it. Especially because I’m pretty sure that I’m not always spending mine well. Something in me hates the tyranny of the clock. So much effort is spent on schedules and goals and to-do lists. I feel like I’m always scrambling to evaluate my time and often feeling defeated in the effort.

I can share more of that process in posts to come. The work of using time well – both in the being and the doing of life – is a constant challenge. Tips and strategies and evaluating tools abound. THAT is for another post.

But, as I’ve been grappling, I was reminded of a passage from one of my favorite books, A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. It helps give voice to the frustrating struggle we have with time.

When I read his insight, my heart cries “yes” and it just feels good to put words to the struggle. Perhaps it will encourage you as well…

“But all the fulfillments were somehow, it seemed to me, incomplete, temporary, hurried. We wished to know, to savour, to sink in – into the heart of the experience – to possess it wholly. But there was never enough time; something still eluded us…

“In the reality of Now the clock is always ticking. One might suppose, looking at the glossier advertisements of watches – ever more exact, ever more spectacular flashing of the passing second – that modern man considers time a lovesome thing or, possibly, has a watch fetish. We might be better advised to hurl the lot into already-polluted Lake Erie.

“And yet, after all, the clock is not always ticking. Sometimes it stops and then we are happiest. Sometimes – more precisely, some-not-times – we find ‘the still point of the turning world’. All our most lovely moments are perhaps timeless.”

He then goes on to write about our frustration with time as really a deeper longing that is rooted in eternity.

“I believe the longing for eternity is built-in to us all… If indeed, we all have a kind of appetite for eternity, we have allowed ourselves to be caught up in a society that frustrates our longing at every turn… In fact, we are harried by time…

“And yet, why not? Time is our natural environment. We live in time as we live in the air we breathe. And we love the air. How strange that we cannot love time…

“It suggests that we have not always been or will not always be purely temporal creatures. It suggests that we were created for eternity. Not only are we harried by time, we seem unable, despite a thousand generations, even to get used to it. We are always amazed by it – how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where, we cry, has the time gone? We aren’t adapted to it, not at home in it. If that is so, it may appear as a proof, or at least a powerful suggestion, that eternity exists and is our home…

“What it will be is quite beyond anything we can imagine. And yet it will be home. Of that we may be sure. I am as certain of the timelessness to come as I am that time was the worst of the evils in Pandora’s box.”

There is still a call from my Lord to spend my time well. I need not squander it away and come to the end of my earthly days full of regret for the ways that I wasted it on unworthy things.

And, yet, it is good to put words to the struggle as I live within its constraints.

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 ps – if you’ve never read Vanauken’s book, it’s definitely worth your time. It’s a beautiful memoir about his relationship with his wife (Davy), their search for faith and the tragedy of Davy’s untimely death. During their journey to Christ, they meet C.S. Lewis and he plays a large role in their developing faith. As a disclaimer, I will warn you to have a box of Kleenex handy…

If you do read it, please let me know what you think!

It’s not really what you’d call the glamorous life.

Rick and I used to joke that we’d probably never be featured on the front page of our respective college alum magazines.  

I mean, for the first 15 years of our married life we worked for a college ministry. Most people didn’t even understand what that meant. Oftentimes they wondered why we were still taking classes and if we were ever going to graduate.

We used a backpack instead of briefcase. Wore flip flops instead of loafers.

My credentials were my Greek letters, not a license or a degree.

We weren’t in it for the money. In fact, we didn’t make a ton of money. Our favorite vehicle was an old-school SUV that a family gave to us after their daughter was finished with it. At least five or six times a year, we didn’t even receive a full paycheck.

And, to top it all off, it was a Christian ministry. Let’s be honest, in the U.S., Christianity isn’t as vogue as it used to be. Even professed Christians seem to think that we Christians need a “new kind” of something or other.

Like I said, it’s not exactly the kind of stuff that makes the front page of the alum magazine. (Come to think of it, both of our universities probably wish that Christian ministries would leave the college campus all together!)

But, we loved it. It was worth every high and low that we could give it.

It is  true that we don’t have tons of material stuff to show for it. I don’t have a big house or fancy clothes or dazzling jewelry or that sort of thing. But, I like to think that I have my own sort of “bling.”

It’s the women. Women around the country who were once college students and are now living out their calling in various vocations and roles. In God’s perfect timing and grace, we found each other during their four years of college and I got to play a part in helping them grow in their faith.

These five women in particular are some of the most precious things in my life. I’m proud of them. Thrilled that God used me to play a mentoring role in their lives. None of them came from Christian homes so I got to be a sort of spiritual mom to them.

Sometimes it was as simple as having them in my home for tea and quiet conversation off-campus. Or taking them to the movies after a heart wrenching day. Or teaching them how to study their Bibles. Or giggling with them about a boy that they liked. Or showing them some of my homemaking tips. Or encouraging them to take a step of faith and risk some discomfort among their peers.

I prayed for them, wept over them, laughed with them, had dinner with them, advised them, and just walked through life with them.

The irony of it all is actually sort of funny. I laugh because they were even sort of sad when Rick and I remodeled our kitchen. Our kitchen was the ugliest place in the house. I’m not kidding. Really ugly and gross. It took us eight years to save the time and money to fix it up. So for eight years, I made it work and learned to be thankful for beat-up kitchens. (Turns out, you can still make good food in an ugly kitchen!)

But, to these women that kitchen was beautiful. They remember standing there at the old butcher block while I sliced banana bread or boiled water for tea. They remember our conversations and our laughter. They insist that they don’t really even remember the peeling paint, the old appliances, the dirty cupboards and the limited space. Their memories are etched with the relationship and the moments, not the stuff that surrounded them.

Well, my role in their lives is different now. They’ve graduated and started lives of their own. Today, I’m more older sister than mom. And, they are my friends.

Four of the five are already married. All four times I cried with joy as those doors at the back of the sanctuary opened and these beautiful brides came down the aisle to become one flesh with their godly husbands. Their weddings each a glimpse of Jesus and His bride, the church.

Now, we’re about to watch sweet Molly do the same. I’ll be the old lady bridesmaid with the Kleenex hidden in her bouquet. I can’t believe that getting to know her and love on her was my job for a time.

I think as far as bling goes, that these gals are more dazzling than any diamond or piece of fine jewelry that I could ever have.

(Now… if only I could figure out how to fit them in my jewelry box…)

It was one of those weekends.

The garbage disposal sprung a leak. I forgot to take the library books back on time. Rick and I were arguing. I was getting stressed by a to-do list that seemed overwhelming. The sewer line was starting to smell a little funky. The car repair place had called: yep, the brakes on the car were shot. Mixing the vinegar and the baking soda for the rocket inside the house had turned out to be a bad idea…  

Clearly, it was not one of my best weekends.

So, as I come into this week, I come empty.

Turning my heart to gratitude because I must.

Because God is still on His throne and He is still lavishing me with good things.

Thanks to you God…

• For “I really do love you” whispered between husband and wife in the still night air – even after a day of dissonance
• For time with old, dear friends – talking so long that we lost track of time
• For a husband who can fix the leaky sink
• For moments of grace sprinkled throughout hard days
• For warm, homemade Toll House cookies – and the evidence left on Caleb’s face *smile*
• For warm spring days and walking the kids to school
• For purple crocs on 8-year-old feet
• For Caleb’s big blue eyes and his earnest “I love you, Mom” when he knows I’m sad
• For a living hope that extends beyond material things
• For windows open and fresh air wafting in
• For fresh cut grass – so green from the spring rains
• For a jewelry-making lesson from sweet friends who reflect God as they create
• For my pens and the simiple pleasure of writing in my journal with different colors
• For the mood of anticipation as I prepare for my scrapbooking retreat this weekend
• For this quiet moment and the time to regroup

And, last but certainly not least, for the writer of Hebrews who reminds me…

“Through [Jesus] then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.”

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Join me as I connect with other bloggers in gratitude today…

Okay. Okay. I confess. I’m a 24-junkie.

We got hooked by some friends a few years ago and have been watching ever since. I’m not saying it’s a perfect show. But I like the suspense and I like the moral dilemmas that it upends. It’s one of those shows where you constantly face “do the ends justify the means” type situations.

Last night’s show was an interesting one. Quick synopsis: President Taylor is close to negotiating a peace agreement in the Middle East that has eluded her predecessors and will be the crowning achievement of her presidency. Since the first hour of the show, we have watched that agreement teeter on the brink of failure. But, in typical 24 style, despite much adversity and challenge, it looks like they just might pull it off afterall. However, signing the agreement means that President Taylor must willfully ignore a lead that would implicate one of the countries in the day’s terrible events. This is the path she chooses.

At one point in the show she tells Jack Bauer that because the treaty will bring about a greater good, she is moving forward and disregarding the information she has received.

In an exchange between them, Jack disagrees and says “I don’t want revenge, I want justice.” “And, I want peace,” comes President Taylor’s response.

I’ve heard people say similar things in real-life issues over the years. We’re so tired of the conflicts and the carnage that they leave. We just want peace.

But, I wonder, can there be peace without justice? Maybe for a time. But, can true, lasting peace be built on anything but truth and justice? Sweeping things under the rug or pretending they’re not there never fixes anything. It really only prolongs the inevitable. Eventually, the bulge under the rug gets so big that you trip over it.

Whether we’re talking about two countries at war or two people who can’t seem to live together anymore. True peace comes on the back of justice.

That’s one of the things I love about the Cross. This horrible method of execution by a brutal regime became something beautiful on that day 2,000 years ago. In the Cross, we get both justice and peace. Jesus makes a way. He doesn’t sweep our junk under the rug. He doesn’t pretend it’s not there. He looks it square in the face and says “I’ll pay for that. Yep, it’s ugly and what you said/thought/did was gross, but I’ll pay for it. It deserves punished but let me stand in your place and take that punishment.” He doesn’t dress it up and make believe that it’s pretty when we all know it’s not. Whether it’s something as horrific as the Killing Fields or as ugly as a sister’s utter of “I hate you” to her brother. He calls it what it is and He pays the penalty it deserves. Justice. 

And, then in the greatest exchange of all time, He gives me His pure heart and righteous standing instead. He just gives it to me. FOC. All I do is take it. Peace. 

My part: to humble myself and admit that I see the bulge under the rug too. He does the rest. Both peace and justice are satisfied.

No, President Taylor. I’m pretty sure that you can’t get peace this way. It’s a noble attempt but it won’t last. Not if you ignore justice.

You’ve probably noticed that the keystrokes have been quiet for the last month or so here in my little corner of the internet. My usual tapping away has stalled. Not so much the pondering but the voicing of those thoughts.

They say that’s bad for a blog. Go figure, silence doesn’t really attract readers. But, it had to be done.

Acutally, at first it was unintentional. The days slipping by with springtime tasks, a busy school schedule, and a family bout with Strep Throat.

But, then I realized that the break was good. My heart had been a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Sometimes it’s just best to keep silent vigil on those thoughts. To reel in the tongue and be slow to speak.

It’s not a new lesson for me. My words have gotten me in trouble before. So much of life is like that. Relearning the things I’ve learned before. Applying them afresh. Letting my failures drive me to dependence on God’s Spirit and begging Him for heart-level transformation.

This time it all started with the fervor over the healthcare bill here in the U.S. There was so much banter about it on Facebook. I allowed myself to get sucked in by it. I could feel this “righteous indignation” (at least that’s what I’d like to call it!) flaring up in my soul and I felt compelled to comment. It wasn’t extremely divisive comment but it also just didn’t need said. And, even when I wasn’t commenting, I was anxious and concerned about commenting.

Then, just a few days later, there was the “discussion turned debate” with a friend about ministry to the poor. Another time where my heart was getting worked up and I realized about half-way through it that I just never should have commented in the first place.

As I sheepishly relayed both discussions to my Rick, he asked some great questions and it sent me into a time a healthy examination. Why do I feel compelled to enter into these discussions? What do I think is going to be accomplished by my sassy status post? Is my motive to lovingly enter into thought-provoking discussion with others or is it shove my perspective into the face of another? What am I trying to prove – to myself, to others? Why do I feel responsible for what other people are thinking?

Furthermore, what do I want to want to be known for? My political leanings? Sheesh, I hope not. What am I willing to go to the mat for? Healthcare reform in one generation in one nation – which is simply one place in a vast universe? I think not.

Nevermind the fact that I have a limited number of hours to spend in my days. If I’m using them arguing on Facebook, you can bet that the laundry is not done, that I’m distracted when the kids have a question, that I’m falling behind on articles that I should be writing, and that I’m wearied instead of refreshed when my husband walks through the door at 6 p.m.

Does that mean that I should just park my brain and not think with a critical lense about the things I see and hear – whether on Facebook or on the news or on talk radio or on a blog? Does that mean I shouldn’t care about political issues that have their ripples in the moral realm? No, of course not.

I just want to be a woman who chooses well. I want to live with vision – spending my time and words on the things that matter most. I don’t want to speak just because I can. I want my words to bear fruit – in my life as well as in yours.

Perhaps my Lord said it better than I when He penned these words through His servant Paul in his letter to the church at Philippi:

Do all things without grumbling or disputing; that you may prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life…

Let me be a woman who holds fast to the word of life.

And if that gets clouded by the worries of this world or gets jumbled by competing thoughts, let me be a woman who just shuts up. *wink*

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Thanks for coming back to ponder with me afresh! I look forward to more musings with you in the days to come. And, I appreciate your grace during my silence this last month, Shannon