Sunday, September 5, 2010
Day 248: Blink
How is it that time just seems to fly by, practically unnoticed, like a stealth plane on a recon mission? As a kid, I remember thinking high school would just never arrive -- I was doomed to be a fifth-grader forever. High school finally did become a reality and I thought it would never be over; I was ready for college and maybe even a job. The first job came, college life was alright, but I just wanted my real life to start. It seems that as soon as I got married, the fast-forward button got pushed and the Life Remote got lost in a couch in our first apartment.
::Blink:: We bought a house.
::Blink:: We had a kid.
::Blink:: Another house later, another kid, and a business.
::Blink:: Do I need to continue? Everytime I blink, I have another kid (maybe that's how that happens?), more work, and everyone looks older.
The scary thing is that I can't remember an awful lot between blinks. It occurs to me that the overwhelming pattern of my early years is one of hurry up so I don't have to do this anymore, not wow, this is a nice moment to visit. Though I try hard these days to be in the moment, my brain is so sieve-like at this point, I find it difficult to remember much of anything beyond how many calories are in a Ghiradelli Twilight Dark Chocolate square (25, if you must know). Even properly medicated with said chocolate, it's tough to know that precious moments keep slipping by -- moments I'm so sure I'll mentally archive, yet are sure to disintegrate in the ether of my mind.
What does this have to do with worth? I realize that my life, worthy child of God or not, will be largely unremembered by anyone, including me. I have to find a way to make peace with this notion. (More tomorrow on this idea and the web.) I am worth savoring this moment right now, be it good, bad or covered in chocolate because this is the only moment that matters. The stuff of my life's situations are quite unimportant, but the character they build (think of coral reefs and how those grow over time) will last. If I appreciate right now for what it is -- not what it will be, should be, could have been -- I find my worth.