Lisa notes

“To become free of the tyranny of time, become interested in the present.”
– Jack Kornfield

The movement across the room catches my eye. I’m sitting in the rocking chair in my living room. I glance up to catch one picture morphing into the next picture on my digital picture frame that sits on the bookshelf.

In the first picture, I see a younger me with my youngest grandchild as an infant. I remember exactly how I felt looking into his baby eyes. That overwhelm of love. Of awe. Of time standing still.

But in the second picture, almost two years has elapsed.

We’re now at his 2nd birthday party, watching him walk around with his little friends in the park. No longer a baby, he now has opinions and preferences (anything with wheels) and agency.

And the same infectious personality that still brings us such joy.

I notice the astonishment rise in my heart as I look at him then and as I look at him now.

Yet I also feel a sense of almost panic. I’m running out of time.

While I get to see this little one grow, there are many people in my life that I don’t get to see on a regular basis. They are growing too.

And I know I’m missing out.

I need time to stand still so I can make the rounds to see all the people I want to see today. I don’t want more weeks, months, years, to pass by before I see them again.

I’m missing events with certain loved ones that will never be repeated. I’m losing the buildup of memories with them that would have brought me joy in the present and in the future.

But time won’t freeze for me. Nor will it expand to allow me to do all the things I want to do with these limited minutes.

I have to accept these limitations of living in a human body, able to be present in only one place at a time, doing only one thing at a time.

I grieve the loss of people I can’t be with all the time, even as I give thanks for the people I can be with now.

The flow of time is fixed. But people are fluid, always changing, always in flux through the medium of time.

I’m working toward acceptance of our anchored lives here. We all have limitations of things we can do and places we can be, with the time and bodies we have.

I renew my intention to purposefully engage the time I’m in. Sometimes it means using present time to look back at times past, like the photos are showing me. And sometimes it means using a bit more of present time to plan for future times, like a family vacation ahead.

But most of the time, it’s the impermanence of this present moment that I need to be most captivated by.

While I may have more days to sit in this same chair in this same room and even to look at these same photos in the frame, I won’t be exactly the same person tomorrow as I am today.

Time is changing me, too.

The memory verse of the week for our Summer Memory Challenge is Matthew 6:27.

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

I hear Jesus telling me again and again through these words that I can’t add time to my life. But I can add life to my time.

What’s your struggle with time as a human? Any solutions? Share in the comments.

“So, the task at hand is simple. Slow down. Wonder up. Be more like birds and you’ll be more human.”
– Carlos Whittaker, How to Human

Power of Squirrels

Our electricity is out again. I’m still in bed reading my Kindle on this Saturday morning. So the lack of electricity isn’t a problem for me at the moment.

Yet once I get up, I will need electricity. And breakfast. And a hot shower.

But thanks to our pesky squirrels, none of that may happen.

I’ve only been trying to feed the birds. Just the birds.

But our bird feeder is more accurately a squirrel feeder.

And the squirrels are troublemakers. Not only do they eat all the bird feed in a day, they also dig through the potted plants on the porch, destroying my flowers.

And now, already the third time this year, a squirrel caused our lack of electricity. He crawled on top of the electrical pole in my neighbor’s yard, touched the wrong wire, and POP!

We’re all in the dark.

Are the Birds Hungry?

I pull an orange out of the refrigerator for a quick breakfast, then go for a walk through the neighborhood, spotting the electrical truck. They’re working to restore our power.

I notice on my walk how noisy my neighborhood is. But it’s a good noise. It’s birds. They are plentiful, both in sight and in sound.

While I can’t keep them fed through my own bird feeder, the birds are obviously flourishing here nonetheless.

Just as promised. The memory verse I’m learning this week is something Jesus said.

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”
Matthew 6:26

I’m not fully comfortable with this verse. Yes, the birds around me have easy access to food. And yes, I do believe that humans trump birds.

But are humans always cared for? I have friends living in chronic pain. I see hungry people around town. I can often feel fear even about my own future.

What was Jesus talking about?

While I can’t know for sure, I imagine Jesus telling me that we humans don’t have as much control as we’d like to think. That we need outside help.

And that help is always available.

Stay Connected

None of us can fully handle everything life throws at us. We fall down. Things go wrong, and sometimes stay wrong.

But we’re never alone (even though we sometimes feel alone; there is only one soul per body, after all). When life is out of control, what fills in the gaps?

Companionship with others, grounded in Love, may be our greatest protection to endure the dark.

While we can’t control everything, we do have skills, strength, and wisdom to control some things. And the responsibility to do so.

For the things that aren’t ours to control? We can trust what Jesus said, that there will be provision in the gaps. Not necessarily solutions. Definitely not perfection.

But connection.

Connection often appears as another human being showing up as Love.

For future uncertainties still ahead? We can trust that support will show up for those too, maybe in the form of people we haven’t even met yet. As the saying goes, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”

I return home from my neighborhood stroll to find the electricity is back on. I discover there’s one less squirrel.

But the birds? Oh, the birds. They’re everywhere, flying and singing. They don’t mind that the squirrels have emptied the bird feeder. The birds are already full.

And for the moment, so am I.

Have you met new people this year who’ve fed you on your journey? I’m grateful for both older and new friends who are walking alongside me. Share in the comments.

Read more about Human, my One Word 2023:

• Fill in the Blank: “Life is more than ___”
• If You’re a Mindreader
• Ask Yourself This One Question