Wasted Days...

When it comes to being me, some days are easier than others. I am sure that's the truth for everyone. But today as I watched the clock like a hawk, waiting for nap time so I could get some things accomplished, it occurred to me that I was wishing away five hours. Now losing a mere five hours seems insignificant, but is it?

Imagine if instead of grumpily watching the clock, I dedicated those five hours to something positive. Five hours of cooking-something Maya loves to do-would have gotten me enough freezer food for a weeks worth of meals. Five hours of playing restaurant with her might have made a memory she took with her for the rest of her life. Maybe that five hour play session would be the one she told her own children, or grandchildren about...my mom wasn't like that-my mom liked to play with me ALL DAY.

The guilt set in. Then I took it even further. What if those five hours were my last. Obviously they weren't, but can we ever really know that? Would I want my daughters last memories of me to be of me typing away online-too busy to put more playdoh into the fun factory (for the three hundredth time)? What if I knew they were my last five hours? I would be racing, feverishly, too accomplish all I could. To help those I love, to give them enough hugs to last them until we meet again, to remind them that I love them-even though I rarely say it, to write my book, to run a marathon, to spend time with God and be comforted that although death is an earthly end-it is not THE end.

Then it hit me. Someone, somewhere, IS in their last five hours. They may have been in an accident, or have fought bravely against a disease. Perhaps age has simply taken its toll and their life is quickly fading. They sit there, knowing the end is near, wishing so desperately for one more day-to live REALLY live. To hold the ones they cherish, or write that last page, to tickle their child, or run one more race, to say more I love yous, to apologize for the tears they have caused...What would they think of me? The watcher of the clock.  Squandering away my time here like an irresponsible snob, not only allowing the minutes to pass, but WISHING for them to pass faster.

Maya forgive me. You are a blessing and every second with you is a gift that I do not deserve. Aidan forgive me. You are so sweet and undemanding of my attention that you get far less than your share. Lord forgive me. Thank you for every second I have been given. Help me to use them to encourage, to love, to improve, to rejoice, to honor, and to serve you, and may I never take another second for granted.