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| A member congregation of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America | ||
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June 2005 Last Christmas Kitty and I had to move a large, heavy buffet in order to make room for our Christmas tree. When we took the tree down, we didn’t move the buffet back to its original position because we were tired and pressed for time. The buffet would look just fine where it was, we agreed, and anyway, we said, we could move it the following weekend. But the following weekend became the weekend after that and the weekend after that became the next weekend, each weekend occupied with something else, and January became February and then something happened to March and April, I’m not sure what — did we even have March and April this year? — and suddenly it was May where did May come from? — and so the other day, with May disappearing fast, I said to Kitty, “You know we really ought to move that buffet,” and she said, “Why? It’s going to be Christmas again in a few months.” Where does the time go? Christmas was just the day before yesterday, wasn’t it? And now it will be Christmas again the day after tomorrow, won’t it? At least, that’s the way it seems. Kitty was right: Why bother with the buffet? Many years ago, someone warned me that the older you get, the faster time goes. I didn't believe them then, but I do now. A few days ago I was 30 and now I'll soon be 60. When I was in high school, Monday meant Friday was an eternity away. Now, it's Friday before I know it. Sometimes, I even try to slow the weeks down, but it doesn't do any good - they go whipping by and January becomes June. Or is it already July? In Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town, a young girl who has died returns from the grave to re-live one day. But as she sees how everyone lives, how they really don't notice each other or all that there is in a day, it becomes too painful and she says, "I can't. I can't go on. We don't have time to look at each other. We saw all that was going on and never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye world. Good-bye Grover's Corners ... Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking and Mama's sunflowers, and food and coffee, and new-ironed dresses and hot baths and sleeping and waking up. Oh, Earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute." And God knows, it does go so fast. And so we see but do not see, not really. We don't even have time to look at each other. Often we do not realize the wonderfulness of a day, the earth, life itself — the little gifts and smells and everyday things. We miss so much. So, what are we to do? Well, we can't slow time down, but we can keep our eyes open each day. Someone has said that faith is exactly that: "... it is the decision to keep our eyes open." Another author has said, " God is not absent; people just go blind." And one thing this can mean is that often we go blind to everything but ourselves, get so absorbed or lost in ourselves that we do not see the very things that can put life and hope into us. To keep our eyes open to what is beyond us, to really look — at what is there, at each other — is to see something of God's love and life-giving power, something of God's healing and mending power at work. It is to see the miracle and mystery of life and discover hope, even joy. But if you're anything like me, and let days slip by and bank on having tomorrow, then I suggest you start noticing right away. Because after all, it's already June, which means Christmas is the day after tomorrow. God be with you, Jeff
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