“Time is free, but it's priceless.
You can't own it, but you can use it.
You can't keep it, but you can spend it.
Once you've lost it, you can never get it back.”
~ Harvey MacKay
To me, time is more valuable than money. I'd rather be give someone's time than money. I'd rather receive the gift of time more than any other gift that I can think of (that could be partly because one of my love languages is spending quality time with loved ones...). I'd rather spend my time investing in other people's lives because in the long run, I believe that relationships are what matter, not how much money you have in the bank, or what brand of clothing you wear, or what fancy gadgets you own, or whatever else money can buy.
Time is short and seasons pass. We can look back and see how we invested our time. Can we really say that we did the best we could with the time that we had? I know I can't. As we draw out of the holiday season, ask yourself if you actually spent your time wisely. Were you wrapped up in getting decorations up, searching desperately for the "right" gift to give that special someone, frantically wrapping presents, and dashing from one place to the next in this whirlwind of a season? Or were you spending quality time with friends and family?
Even people whose love language isn't quality time can testify that spending time with friends and family is an important matter that often gets pushed aside.
Can we really say we spend our time in the right way, or do we waste it on frivolous things? I'm not sure what the "right" way for me to spend my time is, but I know that of the time I have spent, it has not all been spent the "right" way.
Ask yourself that question...
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
TV Series and Relationships
I was talking to someone the other day about TV series on DVD. He had watched the first season all the way through while it played on television, somehow missed the second and third seasons, and caught the tail end of the fourth.
And while the first few seasons were a while ago, their content was still relevant to the current season. He felt compelled to go back and watch the seasons that he missed to truly appreciate the season he was watching at the time.
It occured to me that this is the way that we treat our relationships with people. Personally, I watch a few select shows--NCIS, CSI, Boy Meets World (when it was on), Survivor--and you can't just jump in the middle of the season and expect to know what is going on, how different relationships between characters have evolved, etc. Well, I mean, you can, but you will be confused and need to view previous episodes, if not seasons, to catch up.
Similarly, we approach relationships in the same manner. We jump into a person's life and try to pick up where they are right now, not giving any thought to their past. We can't just go out and buy that person's life on DVD and "catch up."
And hey, we might get lengthy narratives and a pretty good idea of what happened in that person's life, but that is similar to reading a summary of an episode in a season. You get the main idea, but the character's (or person's in this case) facial expressions, actions, tone of voice are lost. The majority of what we understand is based on non verbal communication--what we see, what we hear. Take away that component, and you miss out on that woman's heartfelt glance toward her coworker or that man's look of contempt, all the richness that existed at the moment that the action took place.
While these two events are different--one is a TV show and the other is reality-- I stilll see similarities between them. It's so interesting that we are drawn to this idea of getting the full-length, uncensored background of a story when it in no way shows how we really live. We can't punch the rewind button in a person's life and get the full experience. Yeah, there's pictures and stories and sometimes home movies, but even all these together only give us a glimpse into that person's life. The only way for us to experience events with people is to be there when they happen.
We would never even dream about becoming addicted to a TV show without watching the previous seasons, but we find it perfectly okay to live our lives and form relationships with people in this way...
And while the first few seasons were a while ago, their content was still relevant to the current season. He felt compelled to go back and watch the seasons that he missed to truly appreciate the season he was watching at the time.
It occured to me that this is the way that we treat our relationships with people. Personally, I watch a few select shows--NCIS, CSI, Boy Meets World (when it was on), Survivor--and you can't just jump in the middle of the season and expect to know what is going on, how different relationships between characters have evolved, etc. Well, I mean, you can, but you will be confused and need to view previous episodes, if not seasons, to catch up.
Similarly, we approach relationships in the same manner. We jump into a person's life and try to pick up where they are right now, not giving any thought to their past. We can't just go out and buy that person's life on DVD and "catch up."
And hey, we might get lengthy narratives and a pretty good idea of what happened in that person's life, but that is similar to reading a summary of an episode in a season. You get the main idea, but the character's (or person's in this case) facial expressions, actions, tone of voice are lost. The majority of what we understand is based on non verbal communication--what we see, what we hear. Take away that component, and you miss out on that woman's heartfelt glance toward her coworker or that man's look of contempt, all the richness that existed at the moment that the action took place.
While these two events are different--one is a TV show and the other is reality-- I stilll see similarities between them. It's so interesting that we are drawn to this idea of getting the full-length, uncensored background of a story when it in no way shows how we really live. We can't punch the rewind button in a person's life and get the full experience. Yeah, there's pictures and stories and sometimes home movies, but even all these together only give us a glimpse into that person's life. The only way for us to experience events with people is to be there when they happen.
We would never even dream about becoming addicted to a TV show without watching the previous seasons, but we find it perfectly okay to live our lives and form relationships with people in this way...
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Running
I had not gone for a good distance run in nearly two months, since the end of the cross country season and I went for an easy four mile run yesterday.
Even after not running in so long, it felt so great to just run, to hear the pounding of my feet on the road, to the rhythmic sound of my breath, and to feel the cold wind slapping my face. Yes it was cold...about 35 degrees, but for once, the cold air didn't bother me. It could have been the fact that I was running for pure pleasure (I know that's hard to imagine for some of you) instead of being under the command of Cummings (cross country and track coach) or the fact that I hadn't run in so long I had forgotten how good it makes me feel.
Whatever it was, it was AMAZING! It's kind of like those commercials that tell you to find your anti-drug. Well I've rediscovered mine...
Even after not running in so long, it felt so great to just run, to hear the pounding of my feet on the road, to the rhythmic sound of my breath, and to feel the cold wind slapping my face. Yes it was cold...about 35 degrees, but for once, the cold air didn't bother me. It could have been the fact that I was running for pure pleasure (I know that's hard to imagine for some of you) instead of being under the command of Cummings (cross country and track coach) or the fact that I hadn't run in so long I had forgotten how good it makes me feel.
Whatever it was, it was AMAZING! It's kind of like those commercials that tell you to find your anti-drug. Well I've rediscovered mine...
Monday, December 22, 2008
Desperately Searching
"I'm desperately wanting to just find a way
Searching and seeking for someone to say
That it's alright and it's okay"
The opening lyrics to the song "You Alone" by Echoing Angels mirrored my feelings last week. I wasn't able to sleep more than four hours at a time and kept waking up in the night and not being able to go back to sleep, I was falling asleep in classes due to this lack of sleep, I was not doing well on tests (with the exception of my math test), I was irritable, my close friend was held at gunpoint, one of my classmate's dad passed away, and I had so much to do and no time to do it.
Frankly, I just wanted to sit down with a friend, not have to go anywhere, say anything, or do something. I just wanted someone to tell me that it was going to be okay, like the lyrics in the song. I longed for an inner peace that I know only God can give me. I have searched and prayed for this peace but I've had no luck yet. I am hoping that with the break from school I will find it.
Searching and seeking for someone to say
That it's alright and it's okay"
The opening lyrics to the song "You Alone" by Echoing Angels mirrored my feelings last week. I wasn't able to sleep more than four hours at a time and kept waking up in the night and not being able to go back to sleep, I was falling asleep in classes due to this lack of sleep, I was not doing well on tests (with the exception of my math test), I was irritable, my close friend was held at gunpoint, one of my classmate's dad passed away, and I had so much to do and no time to do it.
Frankly, I just wanted to sit down with a friend, not have to go anywhere, say anything, or do something. I just wanted someone to tell me that it was going to be okay, like the lyrics in the song. I longed for an inner peace that I know only God can give me. I have searched and prayed for this peace but I've had no luck yet. I am hoping that with the break from school I will find it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Letting Her Go
Already he is trying to blink away the salty tears forming in his eyes
As together, they begin to walk the crimson path,
The path he has been so terrfied of taking ever since he first held her in his arms,
The path lined with beautiful flowers, illuminated with white candles.
Her face is painted with colors of happiness and joy,
And it's the only thing that keeps him walking down that aisle.
Although he tries not to think about it,
The memories of past years nearly drown him.
Before he can think to stop them,
The years play before his eyes in slow motion.
He looks through that hospital window,
Past all the other newborns, and without any hesitation,
Picks out his precious black-haired baby girl.
Subsequently, he walks that same dark-headed, green-eyed five-year-old
Into her first day of kindergarten,
Sending her off with a butterfly kiss on the cheek.
Suddenly he remembers
The countless times he awoke during the night,
Only to find her her standing patiently by his side
Wanting a glass of milk.He considers the many nights
Spent in her room with the hand prints on the pastel-colored walls
When it was stormy outside, snuggling close to his little girl,
So the thunder couldn't hurt her.
Just like that, he finds himself coming home from work
Greeted with a bear hug from his baby girl,
Who waited at the window for him to come in,
When she heard his car pull in the driveway.
He yearned for the sound of her laughter
When he played Barbies with her
Or made her stuffed animals talk.
Longing for the, at the time, dreaded shriek
Of "Dad!" stretched into more syllables that the word contained,
When he had accidentally washed her favorite white shirt
With the colored laundry and turned it pink.
His heart aches when he thinks of
Wanting desperately to spend time
With his beloved teenage daughter
Before she left for college.
But she pushed him aside, saying,
"Not now, Dad, I've got other things to do."
Before he realizes it, he summons up the memory
Of teaching her to drive, in a lonely parking lot
On a Sunday afternoon.
He recalls her innocent giggle as she got behind
The wheel of the car for the first time
And inched slowly across the lot.
Unwillingly, he calls to mind her first date,
The boy he automatically hated,
And the embarrassment he had caused her
By calling 15 times during the date--
Just to make sure she was okay.
A smile flitters across his face as he recalls
The joy in her voice when the letter came,
The one announcing her acceptance
Into her first choice school.
He feels pained remembering the drive across town
To her first-choice college with all her belongings
Crammed in the back of his SUV,
And almost breaking his back unloading everything
In the empty thrid floor dorm room.
Presently he sees her marching across the stage
In her cap and gown to receive
That ever-important sheet of paper.
All too soon, she brought home a boy for him to meet
For him to approve of and give his blessing.
"A very special man," she called him.
He knew at that very moment,
By the way she looked into the boy's eyes
That it was the end of the man she called "Dad"
The end of him being the only man to comfort her broken heart,
The end of him acting as Superman and saving her from dangerous situations.
The end of him playing the role of Mr. Fix-It and attempting to fix her every problem.
Those moments suddenly mean absolutely nothing to him
And he tucks them away in a corner of his heart.
Together they approach the altar
Where the groom--his replacement,
That "very special man"--
Stands ready to snatch his baby girl away.
He holds on to her arm as
They take the final steps up the few stairs.
After all the years that he held her,
Comforted her,
Helped her,
And most of all,
Loved her with all his heart,
She was leaving him.
He prayed the groom
Would take precious care of his baby,
Loving her more than he himself did,
If possible.
Never could he have grasped,
Comprehended, imagined, nor fathomed
The sharp pain that traversed his whole body,
But mainly his heart,
As he heard the words, "Who gives this woman?"
As he responded to the question,
And as he stepped back from the center of the altar,
When he let her go.
As together, they begin to walk the crimson path,
The path he has been so terrfied of taking ever since he first held her in his arms,
The path lined with beautiful flowers, illuminated with white candles.
Her face is painted with colors of happiness and joy,
And it's the only thing that keeps him walking down that aisle.
Although he tries not to think about it,
The memories of past years nearly drown him.
Before he can think to stop them,
The years play before his eyes in slow motion.
He looks through that hospital window,
Past all the other newborns, and without any hesitation,
Picks out his precious black-haired baby girl.
Subsequently, he walks that same dark-headed, green-eyed five-year-old
Into her first day of kindergarten,
Sending her off with a butterfly kiss on the cheek.
Suddenly he remembers
The countless times he awoke during the night,
Only to find her her standing patiently by his side
Wanting a glass of milk.He considers the many nights
Spent in her room with the hand prints on the pastel-colored walls
When it was stormy outside, snuggling close to his little girl,
So the thunder couldn't hurt her.
Just like that, he finds himself coming home from work
Greeted with a bear hug from his baby girl,
Who waited at the window for him to come in,
When she heard his car pull in the driveway.
He yearned for the sound of her laughter
When he played Barbies with her
Or made her stuffed animals talk.
Longing for the, at the time, dreaded shriek
Of "Dad!" stretched into more syllables that the word contained,
When he had accidentally washed her favorite white shirt
With the colored laundry and turned it pink.
His heart aches when he thinks of
Wanting desperately to spend time
With his beloved teenage daughter
Before she left for college.
But she pushed him aside, saying,
"Not now, Dad, I've got other things to do."
Before he realizes it, he summons up the memory
Of teaching her to drive, in a lonely parking lot
On a Sunday afternoon.
He recalls her innocent giggle as she got behind
The wheel of the car for the first time
And inched slowly across the lot.
Unwillingly, he calls to mind her first date,
The boy he automatically hated,
And the embarrassment he had caused her
By calling 15 times during the date--
Just to make sure she was okay.
A smile flitters across his face as he recalls
The joy in her voice when the letter came,
The one announcing her acceptance
Into her first choice school.
He feels pained remembering the drive across town
To her first-choice college with all her belongings
Crammed in the back of his SUV,
And almost breaking his back unloading everything
In the empty thrid floor dorm room.
Presently he sees her marching across the stage
In her cap and gown to receive
That ever-important sheet of paper.
All too soon, she brought home a boy for him to meet
For him to approve of and give his blessing.
"A very special man," she called him.
He knew at that very moment,
By the way she looked into the boy's eyes
That it was the end of the man she called "Dad"
The end of him being the only man to comfort her broken heart,
The end of him acting as Superman and saving her from dangerous situations.
The end of him playing the role of Mr. Fix-It and attempting to fix her every problem.
Those moments suddenly mean absolutely nothing to him
And he tucks them away in a corner of his heart.
Together they approach the altar
Where the groom--his replacement,
That "very special man"--
Stands ready to snatch his baby girl away.
He holds on to her arm as
They take the final steps up the few stairs.
After all the years that he held her,
Comforted her,
Helped her,
And most of all,
Loved her with all his heart,
She was leaving him.
He prayed the groom
Would take precious care of his baby,
Loving her more than he himself did,
If possible.
Never could he have grasped,
Comprehended, imagined, nor fathomed
The sharp pain that traversed his whole body,
But mainly his heart,
As he heard the words, "Who gives this woman?"
As he responded to the question,
And as he stepped back from the center of the altar,
When he let her go.
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