I think we’ve all felt it slipping through our fingers. The time that disappears between doing actual things.
- I intend to start writing at 2, but it’s closer to 2:15 or even 2:30 before I actually get started.
- I intend to go through my massive pile of possessions on Monday, but it’s Tuesday or Wednesday before I even begin.
- Going to sleep similarly creeps up on me, and suddenly it’s an hour later than I’d intended, and I know I’ll be tired the next day.
I don’t know where that time goes: maybe it slips down the couch cushions with the loose change. Maybe it slides down between the seats of my car, along with my favorite pens. Maybe it journeys to that far, undiscovered country where one sock out of every pair goes, only to return as a wire coat hanger.
But I know I must take hold of it. I know the soft blur of time that drips by in-between must be captured, and must be captured before my little girl is born.
I find myself without time enough to do everything I need to do – to write, to work on preparations for the baby, to spend time with Katherine, to exercise like I should, to adequately study the Bible, even to sit and clearly think.
And this affects everything I do, everything I’ve done for most of my life. I have the brains to do most anything I’d actually want to do (astrophysics isn’t one of my interests, fortunately. I’d be a poor physicist), but the static mocks every footstep. I feel like I’m walking into the wind sometimes, and it’s so hard to really focus, to do things intentionally.
Some of this is anxiety, no doubt. Some of it may be laziness. Some of it is just poor planning. Some of it is my distractibility. I have so many interests that it’s hard to leave some behind and focus in on what I really want to do. But all of it is on the chopping block.
So instead of making a bunch of New Year’s Resolutions that only touch the symptoms, I’m going to attack the disease. I’m going to own my time. I’m going to capture the fuzzy lost moments. I’m going to be mentally and emotionally present where I am, right here, right now. If God is willing, I’m going to stop waiting and make things happen.