Time Is a Thief and Other Musings

Time is a thief. You always think you have it.  "Oh, let me do this because I can do that later. I have time". "I don't have the time right now." Try to fit in work, family, sleep, activities, personal time....it's all impossible. Right now I'm sitting at a computer wishing I had more time. Time to do the things that I wanted to do instead of the things I needed to do. Focusing on the important stuff. I look at my kids and can't imagine how they got to be 12, 10, 8, and 6.  Wasn't I here every day? Changing diapers, making bottles, applying bandaids, watching cartoons, hugging, kissing, potty training, laughing, loving...all the loving. I think about my own parents. I just turned 40 - nope, I'm not one of those women that say they're 29. (Remember, I'm having a different battle with time) I'm proud of each and every year I have earned. Each and every day. Time is a thief so I am thankful for being about to even see 40 - not everyone has that luxury. My parents both looked at me and said "I can't believe you're 40". Did my mom and dad think back to those diapers, cartoons, bottles, awkward haircuts, loose teeth, Christmas gifts, and snack plate nights like I sometimes do? Sometimes when we talk I can see in their eyes that it's weird that I'm an adult.  It's strange to me, too.  

The only comfort with time is that I realize that God is in control. He really is. Of time.  People.  Situations.  Heartache. That situation that you can't do anything about? He's got it.  I saw a quote a few weeks ago and I saved it in my photos. I didn't realize when I saved it how much I would look back at it. 

Something so simple, yet so profound. 

I'm so thankful he is in control and I'm not. My ways would be selfish and unfair. My decisions would sometimes be hurtful. I would be a mess to handle everything. I don't want to handle everything.  

My dad is sick.  My dad is probably as low as possible.  I of course would love a miracle. I would love for him to come back home and sit at his computer and ask me to order something online for him. I would gladly repeat anything I said a million times until he could hear it. I wish I had another coffee date with him.  Another snack plate.  I wish I could sit on his bathroom counter and help him shave his face again like I did as a little girl. I wish.  I wish.  But God knows. God knows my struggle. He's here with me in the heartache. He's here just like He was when I was born and my dad asked them to make sure I was a girl because he couldn't believe it. He's here just like He was when my dad beamed while I received my college diploma. And walked me down the aisle. And worried about me when I had Daniel. And when I called needing a little money for a bill.  Or some advice. He's here now, too.  

And I'm so thankful. In my hands, I would never let go of my dad. I would keep him here forever regardless of how tired his body is. Or how much it's struggling. And my dad would try to stay. 

But in His hands, my dad is taken care of. Because of Jesus. I have that knowledge and faith, and my dad does, too.  

And when my heart feels like it's going to explode because it can't handle it all, God's got it.