Horizon in Sight
Today my grandson Matthew is moving on from elementary to middle school, a big day and a reminder that time continues to accelerate.
It seems to, anyway.
It doesn't feel like three years have passed since we were in the school gym watching his older brother Tyler receive his recognition of a job well done, and now he is moving from middle school to high school next week.
Come on! They are growing so fast!
I understand that treadmill feeling people describe when they talk about life. Though they are usually referring to the repetition of work and the lack of free time to enjoy life, I suspect that even when we are enjoying every moment, it just feels like it is moving too fast.
Why is that?
I think when Einstein came up with his theory of relativity the speed of travel he was talking about was more about racing through life than through space.
When we are bored, time drags and when we are having fun, it races. So, if we want to feel like we are living longer, we should endeavor to be bored?
I heard recently that people who sleep longer at night, live longer.
If we rest more than six hours at night, our bodies have a chance to catch up with the pace we keep, and we heal, rejuvenate, become renewed.
Maybe that's how some of the people in the Bible stories lived to be so old. When the sun went down, they rested. When it came up, they worked.
That balance of half and half may have been what we were designed to do. Of course, we don't live that way, do we?
I am sure my grandsons don't feel like time is moving too quickly. They are very involved in so many things and shuttled off from one place to another, that they don't have time to even think about it.
They are still in that mindset of anticipation. What will tomorrow bring? How will I be challenged, and what will I discover?
The years are those milestones that bring new abilities as well as responsibilities, and they are eager to add those notches to their belts.
There are so many possibilities ahead, and God willing, they will enjoy the experience of each and every one. I like to think I will be there to witness them, and I will do my best, to the extent that is possible. But I know some things lie beyond the horizon.
It can make one sad to contemplate that horizon, and the transition from fear to anticipation is one I am not ready to embrace. So, I will plod ahead and continue to complain that the wheels turn too quickly and the seasons change faster than they used to. But I will no longer focus on my milestones, but theirs. After all, what joy is there in the race if I fail to take in the moments?