“Keeping time, time, time,
in a sort of runic rhyme,
to the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
from the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells,
from the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.” – Edgar Allan Poe
Always when I am late. Pressed for time and in a rush, the voice of Poe echoes in my mind like an alarm. I cannot explain why his poem repeats so often and so loudly on the days when I am losing time, but it has played non-stop in my thoughts in the last few days. Months, if I am honest.
As you know I have not had the time to blog. My life has taken a drastic turn since I graduated this last summer. No longer do I split my time between school and a quiet little toy store. My peers are gone to college, some close at home, others gone to universities & colleges elsewhere. I stayed here. A bus full of squirmy, eager, story hungry children was in need of an extra aid. It seemed perfect for a story-teller in need of work. Sitting still for two hours straight is just as difficult for me as it is for the kids, so we work together to make light of it with our tales. Unfortunately working with children on the bus exposes one to every germ available to the town, and I have endured more sickness over the course of two months than previously experienced in as many years. Last month my car suffered one ailment after another and left me stranded for several days. (In the middle of a house-sitting job, too. Praise God for all the people who helped me get to work & church!) Within the last week I have acquired a second part time job; weekends involve projects given to me by patchwork press – a publishing company for which I am an intern.
Yet really, these are not what have turned my life so totally upside down. On November 5, 2016 I got engaged. The last two months have been unbelievable, between the ecstasy of knowing that I will spend my life with the man I love most, and the little daily trials and tasks that come from adjusting to that fact.
Hear the mellow wedding bells, golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night how they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes, and all in tune, what a liquid ditty floats
to the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats on the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells, what a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells!
How it dwells on the future! How it tells of the rapture that impels
to the swinging and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells,
of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells,
– to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! – E.A.P.
Happy am I for the day to come, but in the now I fight for time. Over this last week I’ve forced my schedule to accommodate time to study God’s word and pray. These pursuits have left me feeling dry and unsatisfied. I’ve done all that I could to honor God in this matter and I have set aside other tasks in order to know Him better, so why does He remain silent?
I asked Him just that, when He drew my attention to one fact that I had ignored. Always something – something that compels me to make “my” time and ignore the gentle prodding of the Maker of time.
“Lord, I have no time! But why?” I asked. His reply was “What have you done with the time that I gave you?”
Time is so very short. Surely a small piece must belong to me? A few minutes here to look at wedding dresses, an episode of a t.v. show with my family there, a chapter or two of a fiction book in between bus rides…
Now I’ve squandered the half of it..soon, the whole. My time is gone. Above my heart a whispered tick-tock sounds from a pocket-watch hung round my neck. ‘Tis followed by the mutterings of a poem.
What I cannot manage in pennies I shall not be given in pounds. Like the servant who hid his money I hid my time for God. A precious, liquid gold to be treasured in ticks and breathes when it was meant to be used with all of my being. God gave me this little snatch of time, this day is His, this age bears His name, and He is beyond time.
My time is not borrowed or bought. It was given to me in measured supply- the vessel which binds duties, gifts, and lives into a single frame. Dare I call it mine, as if I were god of my own hours? By God’s grace I will learn to use a little that I may be given much. Let me be an investor of time, never a spender of time.