Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Time for a new post

There is not too much happening with me these days, apart from my daily life, which continues apace. Of course, the pace of my life is quite busy. I am grateful that my father-in-law is back home and resting while they're monitoring and determining whether open-heart surgery is required. I have no doubt that the prayers of all of us have helped him tremendously.

Our former next-door-neighbor, who was truly a neighbor, Bessy, passed away a few days ago. Her husband preceded her into eternity by two and-a-half years. We loved our old neighborhood and still stay in contact with many of our former neighbors, who, like us, have moved away. Bessy was the anchor of the neighborhood, having lived there her whole life. In fact, she lived in the house in which she was born. She was unable to have children, but loved ours like they were her own. So, in 2009, the river of time continues to drain into the sea of eternity. We will miss her greatly. Our three oldest children were trying to make sense of her passing last night. She was in her eighties and had not been well for quite awhile.

We all long for that life that is, to paraphrase St. Augustine, simply life. It can be a bit elusive, but it is obtainable and cannot be separated from the One who gives it, who makes it possible. Adhering to the Lord without distraction is all we need to do, as St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians. Yeah, I know, all we need to do...

Also, during a restless night, I remembered a walk through the West Village while I was in New York last month. I was walking with friends, one of whom is a professor of medieval English literature and the other, my friend Greg, with whom I am now friends on Facebook, who publishes the journal Image. As we walked and talked, Greg was asked what genre he worked in, taught, published, etc. He replied that he worked in creative non-fiction and then said something like, "Sometimes uncreative non-fiction". I knew then that I identified my blogging genre.

Time is a function of change. I mean what is a second to us? It is the time it takes the second hand to move from one dash to the next, or, digitally, from one number to next. Philosophers have puzzled over the notion of now, which is now...I missed it... it recedes into the past. Wait! Here comes another one. Oops, missed it, too... and so it goes.
In the words of an old Smothers Brothers song:

Whatever happened to time? It doesn't come around anymore. The last time that I saw time, it was walkin' out the door..."

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