“But time is a holy mystery, an extravagant gift meant to be experienced, not understood. Certainly not controlled.” –Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance
I don’t know about you, but something in me stirred when I read Ban Breathnach’s words. Something really, really stirred. I was sitting in my car on a rainy afternoon waiting to take Chanelle home from school when I read them for the first time. In near silence with only the light tapping of raindrops on my window, I was nearly brought to tears at the truth of her powerful words.
Time. . . a holy mystery. Wow.
The passage I was reading compared and contrasted Chronos and Kairos time. While I won’t go into the details of all that she wrote, I will say that every word seemed to be screaming at me. Vying for my attention. Demanding that I not go past them too quickly. Later that day I read the passage again and have continued to revisit it several times since that afternoon.
Time. . . sometimes it feels so elusive. So difficult to grab hold of. It’s not that I necessarily want to slow down time, I just long to be more in it. She describes Chronos as clocks, deadlines, watches, calenders. . . time at her worst. Kairos, however, is described as transcendence, infinity, joy, passion, love, Sacred. . . Spirit’s time.
Lately, I have erred on the side of Chronos. My days have been dictated by my watch, my calender, and the little ticker on the side of the blog. Counting time, waiting, running from one thing to another. Feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, missing it. I needed a wake up. A reminder to slow down. . . sit. . . breathe.
How do you do this with a full schedule? Is it possible to be in Kairos when the world is run in Chronos? Once again I am reminded of the importance of taking in the moments. . . not just surviving them.
We did that this week when we trekked our way to a park for a walk in the forest.
I am doing everything I can to pass on my obsession with Fall to my kids. As we drove the the park I excitedly told them about all the beautiful leaves we would see and even challenged them to find as many different kinds as they could. As we stood amidst the grandeur of the trees, we actually watched Fall happen as the leaves so gracefully fell to the ground. Like a baseball player eying a fly ball, Charlie intensely watched the falling leaves so to catch them before hitting the ground.
I intentionally left my phone and my watch behind so to not have any distractions. We moseyed our way through the woods intent on finding as many different kinds of leaves as we could.
While only a few hours, the morning was something like food for my soul. It was energizing, joy-producing, simply lovely and something I have been neglecting in the hectic final days before Baby arrives.
In those hours I delighted in the people Charlie and Chanelle are. Charlie, my worker-bee-focused-son, intent on gathering the leaves. . .
And Chanelle, my playful, carefree-spirit daughter who only wants to play in them. . .
It was such a delightful morning.
When I write in the space I do so in hopes that something I write might resonate with someone. That I might learn from your experiences or you from mine. I also write, though, to confront myself. To challenge. To reflect. To redirect. To see better. Tonight, I’m looking at the moments captured this week and I see that there were precious memories being made. Like, Charlie and Chanelle’s first ever Root Beer Floats. . .
|Thank you, Tammy!|
No, I can’t control time. . . but I can certainly decide how I will be in it.