March 2005

My topic this month is Time…certainly a frequent topic of conversation in any group of human beings. My impetus is having just returned from a family celebration in Maryland of my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. What a privilege that we all were together—all four children, spouses, and all but one grandchild.

My mother has said numerous times recently that she can hardly believe that she's been married for SIXTY years! Even before this event, she has often mused that "she doesn't know where the time has gone," as she gazes at her grown grandchildren, most of whom she has known since they were newborns. My father has been sending us four children numerous snapshots, taken when we were very young—which has awakened a lot of memories for all of us. As we milled around in the photographer's studio, all dressed in our "Sunday best" for a family portrait, my parents' hearts must have swelled, with years of family life seeming to telescope. As they looked at us, they saw us at all the stages of our lives, all at once, and they felt the magic of the moment that we were all together again.

Other people lament that "time has gone by too fast;" they speak as though the passage of time is a bad thing—something to be regretted. It is as though one must account for every minute one has lived; one must have marked every moment with some kind of accomplishment or worthy activity.

I used to live like that; I remember one Saturday morning last spring when I was just worn out; I was traveling too much, keeping too many future obligations on my mind with worry and fear, and trying to squeeze too much into my at-home time. That day, I got up, made my coffee, and instead of rushing into the day's activities, all I could do was sit on my back steps and watch the plants grow in my garden…I realized that I didn't even know what was growing there, because I had filled my life with so much activity. The peace and contentment I felt in those few quiet moments were a great lesson; they taught me that I needed to work towards balance in my life in a much more conscious fashion.

Sometimes it sounds like we think Time is a taskmaster, dragging us along in life. We use so many phrases so casually: time flying, time dragging; wasting time, saving time, losing time, gaining time, running out of time, making time for things, creating "quality time" with our families and dear ones, having time or not having time to do the things we want to do.

"Time goes faster and faster as I get older," and "I have so much to do and so little time" are phrases we all hear repeatedly. Or, "I don't know where the time has gone"—as though losing track of time is a human fault. Quiltmakers know that there is a positive aspect to this: it is a blessing to lose track of time as we get lost in the creative process, as we get into the rhythm of stitching, as we experience the contentment of the time we spend quilting.

But Time isn't something we can hold in our hands, meter out at different rates, put in a bank, ingest in our bodies, or hold in a container. Time is the accumulation of memories over the years; it is the stuff of a lifetime. Time is given to all of us; it is the measure of our lives. What we do, while it is passing, is up to us.

These thoughts have caused me to think each day about what I do with my time—and this year I am working on creating balance in my life. It seems to me that even in a rushed life, we will feel more at peace if we choose to find and savor individual moments in our day. Once you begin this practice, you will find many of them; laughter with co-workers; sunrises and sunsets; the emergence of spring in the trees and bushes and parks and neighborhoods during your drive to work. Smile at a stranger you meet on the street; and savor the moment a smile changes their visage in response. Savor the sight of crooked ponytails on a little girl in the grocery store; of children skipping on their way to the school bus; of dogs relishing their daily walks, and the comical sight of their owners trying to keep up with them…How about tuning in to the sounds of nature, even in the city; the feel of hot shower water, or springtime sun on our faces and backs; the smell of coffee brewing, or dinner cooking, or a newly mown lawn? In the Northwest, we enjoy every additional moment of light as the days lengthen this time of year.

Savoring the sweetness of individual moments makes you feel like you have made the most of the time you have been given in the day. Annie Dillard wrote a phrase I often remember: "The way we spend our days, is, of course, the way we spend our lives."

Let us savor the moments, let us savor the days, let us savor our lives…