whatever-1I was in my office this afternoon preparing a blog post. Just back from having spent a pleasant hour in my garden, I was considering the blessing we are enjoying of having the gift of time. Time to call our own, time to fill as we desire, time stretching out in front of us full of possibilities.

I was thinking about how the passing of time has changed in the short while since we retired. A few days ago on my morning walk I realized that the last time I had the luxury of being able to take regular walks in the springtime, the sun warm on my shoulders, the scent of honeysuckle perfuming the air, was when my children were preschoolers, before my time was filled with school work and then a career. How blessed I felt to be able to reclaim the gift of having time for morning walks.

This afternoon I spent an hour in my garden puttering around with tasks that, had I hurried, could have been completed in mere minutes. With the luxury of time on my side I was able to walk through the garden and observe the new growth in other’s plots, take note of new structures and new plants that have been added since I was there last. I considered where I plan to plant my tomato plants in a few weeks and marked the spots with tomato cages; then I changed my mind and rearranged them. I planted a dozen marigolds, companions for my future tomato plants. I planted two pepper plants I’ve grown from seed. I watered, I dreamed, I was content.

Then, back at home as I sat at my computer composing this post Gerry returned from a walk and came into my office, pulled over a chair and sat down next to me, a few tears falling from his eyes. He had just received a phone call that was a stark reminder that time is a fleeting thing and that there are no guarantees about how much time is allocated to each of us.

We are reminded that every day is a gift. Our hearts are heavy as we face saying farewell to a loved one far, far too soon.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. Linda, a beautiful post with a stark reminder that time is fleeting and our time is marked. We’ve just returned from Edmonds, WA where we attended the memorial service for our brother-in-law, my husband’s oldest sister’s husband. Although he would soon have been 91, it leaves a huge void in our family and in our lives. It was also a startling reminder as Bob visited with his three sisters and one brother (all older than him) how much each of them had changed since our last time together at their brother’s memorial service a little over a year ago. Sorry for your loss and keeping you and Gerry in our prayers.

    1. Thanks, Sherrey. Every life is precious, isn’t it? Even when one has lived what seems to be a long life their passing still leaves a void, we still grieve the loss. I’m reminded of Shirley Showalter’s personal mission statement that she shared with readers recently to “prepare for the hour of my death by living one good day at a time, and to help others do the same”. Our time on earth is fleeting. Living life to the fullest, whatever that means for each of us, is so important.

  2. Life is good, but fleeting. My mother told me the older I got, the quicker it would go. How, like now, I can’t believe I’m 56. I am very careful to tell those that matter to me – I love you or simply having them in my life makes a difference. I am sorry for your loss.

    1. Yes, Karen, at fifty-five I find the days, weeks, months, and years going by quicker than ever. Having lost my own parents when I was in my twenties I’ve long been conscious of the need to tell those you care for that you love them. We never know which of our words will be the last ones we speak to someone, do we?

  3. Here’s to reclaiming time after all these years. Cheers!

    Your post also reminded me to me of Shelley’s poem The Lament whose first lines begin “Oh world, Oh Life, Oh Time. He combines the passage of time with grief too, much as you and your commenters do in today’s post. Thank you, Linda.

    1. Thanks, Marian. I’m off to look up that poem.

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