Time is so…interesting. Sometimes I wonder why a God who is outside of the confines of time (at least time as we know it) put this ticking clock in our lives. I wonder, did He give us 24 hour days because that’s really all we can handle at a time before needing to shut down completely and rest a while? Did He give us years that reset through the same 12 months over and over again as a way for us to remember and celebrate significant moments that happen throughout our lives? Like how we’ll always remember 9/11 every time 9/11 comes around each year or how we’ll always remember Christmas and the birth of Christ when December comes around. And did He give us a “new year” every year to give us a new chance at a new beginning because sometimes just feeling like we have a new beginning gets us up on the right foot and is just what we need to keep going? And maybe that’s even why we have a new day every day because every day can be that chance at a new beginning to do things differently and maybe to do things better than the day before.

Whatever the case, whatever God’s reasoning, we all live with this ticking clock that our lives have to be organized around.

When I was younger, time seemed to move slow as molasses. I remember being the restless little girl that I was, constantly staring up at the clock waiting for the next fun thing to do. On long, quiet Saturday afternoons, I remember my restless self laying upside down and hanging over the ledge of our black leather couch staring up at our cuckoo clock for what felt like hours while harassing my poor mother every 10 seconds about when it was time to go play with so-and-so. In school, the time would go by even slower as I spent the mornings eagerly waiting for recess and the afternoons painfully waiting for school to be let out, especially on Fridays when I knew I had horse-back-riding lesson after school.

Now, I suddenly have three kids of my own and the oldest is constantly asking me when we can do this and when we can do that, to which my answer is almost always, “Soon, Micah. When it is time.” To him, that means very little because he is four and he can’t conceptualize time yet, but he usually ends up finally walking away, still uncertain of when, but reassured that it is in fact coming and coming “soon” as I promised.

And this Easter weekend, as our family reflected on the stories of the crucifixion and of the resurrection in their colorful children’s Bible, my thoughts turned to the great Messiah who is risen and seated at the right hand of the Father and I reminded the kids that Jesus is coming again soon.

“Soon? How soon, umma? When is soon?”

While I do not even know for myself the answer to that question and when exactly that will be, I just know that God also promises “soon,” and just as a child believes his mother, I believe my Father. And for this day I live my life to wait for.

And then when it is time, time for Jesus to return, it’ll be the end. But not really the end because it’ll actually be a new beginning….but a beginning that has no end. ..

So interesting.


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