When time jumps the fence.
We all know that feeling of anxiousness when time gets away. The seat is comfortable The reins feel soft in our hands. The majesty of beauty and power between our legs is both full of go and compliant at the same time. We take our lunch beneath a tree in the pasture full of soft hues and grass and wildflowers. Trailing reins hint of no problems. All is good.
And then we happen to look around as our trusty partner sails over a nearby fence and the last we see of him is a stirrup flapping over the next hill. Time has gotten away.
It’s Wednesday. Yesterday was Monday. The day before that was a week ago. We peek around the corner and our kids are grown and gone. Where went the time? It jumped the fence and ran away. Can we get it back? No.
So, what do we do? We slow the time we have left. Do we want to do that? Well, no. Not really. We long for eternity. No more questions like these. No more thought of time. Or time wasted. And that’s really the fear when we see the stirrups flapping in the distance. We fear looking back and realizing that we wasted our time.
That’s been a thought in my mind more and more over the last several years. Perhaps I over think. That’s fair.
We want to know that we’ve hit our lick the best we could. We want to die happy looking back as well as forward. Heather and I spent a couple of hours yesterday getting things ready for a trust call. We want to make sure all is right for our kids if anything happens to us. It’s easy to think that we have another thirty or forty or fifty years. That’s likely. But not certain. Our time is appointed. We don’t know the number of our days. That’s not really our concern. Our concern is in the way we take care of the days we have.