Yesterday, a “time” ago, I imported part of Ecclesiastes 3 into the newest book I’m writing, and thought–seriously thought–about the passage’s words and meaning. Just so you know what I’m writing about, here are the verses written so very long ago, yet so relevant to today.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away, … etc.
A month ago we signed the papers delivering our home to a buyer, a first-time home buyer, and ended our “time” as landowners when we moved to a senior living facility. While we maintain our independence, we are now part of a community. We’ve likened it to our “time” in college dorms. There are rules, there is limited space, there are schedules, there is a sense of community, and there are expectations.
For the most part, we are enjoying our freedom from the responsibility of owning a house, especially as we age and realize the house was owning us, making demands that we procrastinated against fulfilling or things that demanded attention we were unwilling or unable to fulfill.
Then, I thought about the freedom I’ve gained to write, to read, to play games, to visit with others, and to enjoy leisure “time” I otherwise would be spending cleaning, cooking, shopping, repairing, entertaining, and the despised weeding. There literally was little “time” left for reflection, for enjoying life when living got in the way.
But, has anything really changed? This week, for instance, we shopped, both for food and for things we “need” for our new residence, we changed even more addresses, we attended a meeting of residents, we walked to meals and back (would it have been easy to make our own meal?), we volunteered for the Space Coast Symphony performances, we entertained the family for Nancy’s birthday (actually, we celebrated Tuesday and Friday), and we traipsed through Lowe’s getting keys made and buying necessities for making our apartment more like home. We took “time” to do what was necessary, or at least better in our estimation.
Now, I hear, we need to prepare for a “tropical storm-hurricane” approach. There’s always something on the horizon. So Solomon was right. The passage of time on my new wall clock (I still can’t find my bedside table clock–probably a good thing, since I was awake at all hours last night thinking about how little “time” I will have today.
Before church I have to clean the cat box, make pancakes, load the dishwasher and run it, put out extra food for the cat since we won’t have “time” after church to feed her. Then we grab quick lunch from Arby’s, drive to Vero Beach to host another production of “A Little Night Music” by Sondheim ( a delightful production of a slightly raunchy spoof), then drive back and collapse after a wall-to-wall day. No wonder I didn’t sleep well last night. We took “time” to volunteer last night from 5:30 to 10:00. I know I was still awake at midnight, and read Ev’s clock at 4:15. I’m still awake and the day is much too young. It will be a long “time” until it’s “time” to sleep again.
As I watch some of the more elderly than we in this facility who have few things to help them pass the “time,” I feel blessed to be able to go and do and shop and make plans and get to church and spend “time” with family and volunteer and worship and play and read and laugh and pray and write and make pancakes and have someone in my life to hug and love and feed and care for and run my semblance of home for and enjoy my daughter’s birthday and…and…and.
Now it’s time to make pancakes. It’s time to begin the day.
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