Inside: What it takes to keep learning—no matter how old you are. Plus … one way to do hard things, why it helps to run into the wind, and how to respond to unanswered prayers.
Several weeks ago, I watched as my younger sister taught my 92-year-old aunt how to use the video feature of Facebook Messenger. Aunt Renate wanted to be able to video chat with her daughter in Mississippi; now she can.
Goes to show, you’re never too old to learn something new.
Inside: When time flies by and it seems like the world is spinning out of control, the Book of Isaiah offers comfort and encouragement.
I’ve been blinking so much lately it feels like I’m in a perpetual dust storm.
I blinked and it’s November.
I blinked and the vibrant fall leaves are blanketing the ground.
I blinked and Thanksgiving is two weeks away.
I blinked and my daughter turned 21.
I blinked and I turned—well, another year older.
It’s as if we emerged from some kind of weird Covid-19 time warp into a world spinning so fast we can hardly keep up. Add in any number of societal changes and challenges, and it sometimes seems as if our entire planet is spiraling out of control.
Inside: My dad’s metaphor for time and what we can learn from it that might help us use our time wisely. ~
In his classic book On Writing Well, William Zinsser lamented that “Memories too often die with their owner, and time too often surprises us by running out.”
As I went through the papers my dad left behind when he died, I often wished I could ask him about them. Why, for example, did he save so many newspaper clippings about the space race with Russia? What made him so interested in the Russian Revolution, and racial issues, and seemingly endless other topics?
Why did he like maps so much? Was it hard to obtain patents (which he did three times)? Which did he enjoy more: writing Bible studies or penning children’s stories?
Maybe some of my siblings know the answers to some of these questions, but unless I ask them, I’ll never know. They’ve died with their owner, as Zinsser said.
I do have my own memories of my dad, though, and of my life with him. And—just as my GriefShare leader promised—as the grief has softened, those memories have become warmer.
My family and I are able to sit around the dinner table and reminisce about my parents. When Molly turns up her nose at the chicken tikka masala on her plate, I tell her how I used to sneak my mushrooms onto my dad’s dinner plate when I was a kid because I hated them so much.
We laugh about how he used to slice up blocks of ice cream with a knife instead of scooping it—we all got a rectangle on our plates. I’m sure my mom bought the blocks because they were cheaper than tubs, but his method of serving the ice cream was the perfect engineer way.
Whenever Randy comes home with a new joke that makes Molly roll her eyes all the way to the back of her head, we look at each other and smile. “My dad would have loved that one,” I often say.
The second half of Zinsser’s thought—the part about time running out—came to mind when I found, on the very last page of a yellowed notebook full of my dad’s handwritten children’s stories, something called “Manna as a metaphor for time.” I have no idea if he ever shared these thoughts with anyone—a small group or a Sunday school class perhaps?
But they’re thought-provoking, and worth sharing here.
As you may recall from the Old Testament, God provided manna until the Israelites entered the Promised Land and were able to eat its produce. The white flakes, which Exodus 16:31 says “tasted like wafers made with honey,” appeared on the ground every morning, six days a week. The people were instructed to gather only what they needed for each day, except on the sixth day, when they also collected manna for the sabbath.
According to my dad, manna is a metaphor for time because of the following reasons:
• Everyone got exactly as much as he needed. Even if somebody got greedy, it ended up the same. (Exodus 16:18)
• You could do a lot of different things with manna—cook it in pots or make it into loaves, for example. (Numbers 11:8)
• Some people were bored with the manna; they didn’t appreciate it. Instead, they looked back to a “better time” when they ate all the fish and melons they wanted in Egypt. (Numbers 11:4-6)
• Manna had to be used as it came; it couldn’t be stored. (Exodus 16:20)
• There was a time when the manna stopped, but there was something better to take its place. (Joshua 5:10-12)
It’s a good metaphor, as my dad’s metaphors usually were. We each get as much time as we need—not more or less. We can do many things with the time we are given. Sometimes we look back fondly at the “good old days,” conveniently forgetting the struggles and challenges that came with those seasons.
We can’t store up time to use later (although it would be nice if we could). And finally, eventually our time will run out, but—if we are part of God’s family—something better awaits in eternity.
“Lord, reveal to me the end of my life and the number of my days. Let me know how short-lived I am. You, indeed, have made my days short in length, and my life span as nothing in Your sight.” Amen. (Psalm 39:3-4)
♥ Lois
We each get as much time as we need—not more or less. Share on X Our time will run out eventually, but if we are part of God’s family, something better awaits in eternity. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Sweet Tea & Friends, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
Full. It was my One Word for 2020, and it seems to be a fitting description for the fall of 2022 as well.
In September, Randy and I spent several days visiting his mom in North Dakota. A few weeks later, my sister and I took our second annual trip to Wisconsin to see our 92-year-old Aunt Renate.
I read Mere Christianity for the first time when I was in my late 40s. I don’t know why it took me so long. I love C.S. Lewis. The Chronicles of Narnia are among my favorite books in the whole wide literary world.
I was late to the party, for sure. But once I read Mere Christianity, the non-fiction title Lewis is perhaps best known for, I felt like someone who had just discovered pizza and wanted everyone else to know about it.
I have a pretty good idea what my strengths are. You probably know yours too. We might never broadcast our talents to the world, but part of knowing ourselves is understanding how we are wired and being confident in our gifts.
Hopefully, we’re not like those tone-deaf people who were convinced they were going to win American Idol because nobody ever had the heart to tell them they couldn’t sing. But we all have skills and abilities that are helpful and useful.