Glancing at my watch, I discovered my afternoon had tip-toed out of sight, but my list stared up at me earnestly. Where did the day go? For that matter, where has my life gone? Have I spent it well or wasted it?
As I walk through the rooms of my house, I hear the call of good intentions and unfinished tasks.
"Finish me!"
"Start me!"
My desk in our joint office has a long list of items in the queue. Bills wait to be paid, and receipts from purchases are stacked, wondering when I will tire of their presence so they can be filed away. My list of "someday I would love to" ideas piles up, waiting for me to research and develop them.
Recipes for soaps or foods sit to the side. Other files hold manuscripts that need another edit or rewrite for the first or tenth time.
My standing desk, my writing oasis, is up by our media room, and on it, I have outlines and notes for unfinished books and messages.
My laptop dutifully beckons me, "Please write something."
"Come over here and be creative for a few hours!" the desk cries out."
Yes, this is my heart and my dream—to write, to be published, and to share these thoughts that only my mind has put together from my studies and life experiences.
Early before work today, I chatted with my husband, Jerry, who sat next to me while I got a bite for breakfast. He declared how much he loved me and prayed for me. Before he left the house, he kissed me goodbye; he never forgets.
My sweet mama lives with us and is now 93. At lunch or whenever our paths intersect, we chat a bit to sync our calendars and set reminder alarms.
Finally, I climb the stairs to answer the calls to edit and write.
Years before, I raised six children and thousands of other children and teens who belonged to other mothers. Throughout my career as a public school teacher, I taught preschool, elementary, middle, and high school.
Back then, between rehearsals, preparing for work, church, sports, theater, and picking up and dropping off kids going to practices or to their minimum wage jobs, it was hard to imagine ever having time for my own personal dreams. Yet now, with the nest empty, I see clearly that in the busyness that my tribe afforded, I did live my dreams back then.
But that was then. This is now. Now I am retired. Really? Ha, I wonder sometimes! Last week, I whispered to Jerry, "Hon, I don't feel retired."
Yet, today, I am allowed to chase after long-awaited dreams that I teasingly told myself, "When I grow up...I will..."
My life is complete but with more balance. What more could I want out of life? God kept me sane and content throughout the challenges and trauma that I have experienced. I am wiser now for all of the wear and tear.
I enjoy this front-row seat, cheering on my husband and interacting with Mom, children, grands, and great-grands as they grow and flourish. Many prayers have gone up and were answered.
Life is precious. Like sand through an hourglass, it briefly passes through our present, and then it is gone.
I discovered the answer to my first question. When I evaluate the total, I have no regrets. I did not waste my time or my life. The bad did not outweigh the good.
Time comes and goes. Will it be wasted? Well, that is up to you and me to decide. But when it is spent. Embrace it.
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