How much time do you have?
The space in between two peaks lies a distance that seems dream-shattering. We look for the trail, the bridge, some kind of escape, but there isn't one. Our human eye can only measure a mean distance. The
space is so far, the trek is so long, the goal seems out of any man's reach. But with time it won't matter, because it's the time that will bridge the distance, providing us a season to climb down from our peak, into the valley, through the abode and back up the next peak.
It was just yesterday I sat in church. As I sat there I fought to hold in the bursts of laughter that wanted to escape during the reverence of the song service. How ironic that I, a lone high school teacher from Salem, would be sitting in a sanctuary in Portland in a row of seven of my own classmates from college. The boy on my left: a fond, old memory of camping trips, rock climbing, long weekends spent at Priest Lake, and a cousin of my best friend. There on my right: another kind of fond memory of morning walks to class, dream sketching, theological debates or relationship forums on the yellow couch on the porch and afternoon runs. So much time put into each relationship so many years ago, now bringing us back together like no time had changed us. Now, here we are, in many ways doing what we had once dreamed: living on a sailboat, rock climbing and mountaineering while mentoring and teaching them, whom our society has chewed up and spat out.
As we sat there, my smile grew with every passing song being lead from the front and projected onto the screen, "It is so good to be here. I don't know what it is, but I have needed it for a long time." "Community. That's what it is." I heard the whisper on my right. As we sat there singing together I interrupted the blending of pitches to ask my right, "How are things going with her?" As the pursuit had been mentioned to me in a conversation from weeks past and I had sent up prayers for the matter. "Good. I'm a patient man. I don't care how long it takes. Love and relationships are a product of time. So I will wait. Because today, as far as I know, I've got time."
I look at the product of the time put into these relationships on my right and left. There is nothing more comforting right now than to physically feel the result of that time. Time is a powerful thing. It propels a man to wait for his love. It convinces the student to keep dreaming. It tells here there is no time for herself. It creates the bridges to our past and our future. It's what holds us together when the distance is too great. It has pulled many apart and been given a false identity by the culture we have created that tells us time can be condensed and we can have the same results. What a lie we have been raised to believe, that time might be finite. We may wait a week, a year, 30 years, or a lifetime, but won't it be worth it to feel the result of that time? Because today, as far as I know, I've got time.
space is so far, the trek is so long, the goal seems out of any man's reach. But with time it won't matter, because it's the time that will bridge the distance, providing us a season to climb down from our peak, into the valley, through the abode and back up the next peak.
It was just yesterday I sat in church. As I sat there I fought to hold in the bursts of laughter that wanted to escape during the reverence of the song service. How ironic that I, a lone high school teacher from Salem, would be sitting in a sanctuary in Portland in a row of seven of my own classmates from college. The boy on my left: a fond, old memory of camping trips, rock climbing, long weekends spent at Priest Lake, and a cousin of my best friend. There on my right: another kind of fond memory of morning walks to class, dream sketching, theological debates or relationship forums on the yellow couch on the porch and afternoon runs. So much time put into each relationship so many years ago, now bringing us back together like no time had changed us. Now, here we are, in many ways doing what we had once dreamed: living on a sailboat, rock climbing and mountaineering while mentoring and teaching them, whom our society has chewed up and spat out.
As we sat there, my smile grew with every passing song being lead from the front and projected onto the screen, "It is so good to be here. I don't know what it is, but I have needed it for a long time." "Community. That's what it is." I heard the whisper on my right. As we sat there singing together I interrupted the blending of pitches to ask my right, "How are things going with her?" As the pursuit had been mentioned to me in a conversation from weeks past and I had sent up prayers for the matter. "Good. I'm a patient man. I don't care how long it takes. Love and relationships are a product of time. So I will wait. Because today, as far as I know, I've got time."
I look at the product of the time put into these relationships on my right and left. There is nothing more comforting right now than to physically feel the result of that time. Time is a powerful thing. It propels a man to wait for his love. It convinces the student to keep dreaming. It tells here there is no time for herself. It creates the bridges to our past and our future. It's what holds us together when the distance is too great. It has pulled many apart and been given a false identity by the culture we have created that tells us time can be condensed and we can have the same results. What a lie we have been raised to believe, that time might be finite. We may wait a week, a year, 30 years, or a lifetime, but won't it be worth it to feel the result of that time? Because today, as far as I know, I've got time.
Wah! Tina, this hit HOME! "There is nothing more comforting right now than to physically feel the result of that time." Oh, you put some important things into words. I really miss you! I'm glad you got to go be with some "long-time" friends. :)
ReplyDeleteYour need for community is evident but not just any community, one that fills you, understands you, and hikes with you.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I like the interplay with time that you developed in this piece where there was a sense of longevity, focus on the long haul but yet mixed with brevity and a sense of urgency. This was good.