do you ever feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders? well, maybe not the weight of THE world…but the weight of YOUR world?
right. sometimes it feels like the weight of THE world.
our feelings are pretty little liars aren’t they?
time, however, is not.
we’re a bit wound tight. well maybe that’s just me.
you see i tend to be horribly impatient, frightfully perfectionistic and, most often, wholly without grace toward myself. very rarely, do i give myself time.
time to grow. time to learn. time to evolve and change and get to the place i’m going. time to see what happens. time to determine what is right. i see the destination, feel the desire i want – the goal i set out to achieve, and i want it now. yesterday. tomorrow seems like a failure and a burdensome weight.
perhaps you feel the weight stooping your once-straight shoulders, slouching your formerly upright posture. it’s heavy isn’t it? when you try to carry it on your own? when you believe you can get yourself from here to there, you succumb to your feelings and forget about time.
you forget that time keeps a record and it’s never early or late. it’s passage is marked in concentric rings, year after year.
sometimes i feel like a total fraud: me the perfectionist, talking about grace. stumbling on grace. but who can better beg for an uncommon grace than one who desires it so desperately? one who knows too well the quest for perfection and it’s ever present risks, quite like me? who knows the whispered lies that flow from the feelings of my deceptive heart.
we all want the same things: to be seen. known. cherished. valued. to know our life makes a difference. that our very waking breath would matter, not because we achieved but because we tried. because we were brave enough to dream and fight and risk and, yes, even fall short.
so that in our failure we would find what we’re made of. that we would find a place of need.
that we would learn the art of patience. the ethic of hard work. that we would know the satisfaction of diligence, persistence and the beautiful gift of the passage of time.
the rings of each tree tell the story of time. every year it passes, and every year leaves a mark. it tells the story of a beautiful life.
some years are marked by perfect rings and others leave knots and wounds that last a lifetime. but time never lies. it is patient and it waits for the story to unfold, the life to be lived, the journey to be told.
the time will pass. the marks will be made. the question is what will you do with them?