Time

Yesterday a bunch of us old friends from high school got together. It was tons of fun getting caught up, and looking back at old photos, remembering when we were kids. It’s hard to imagine it’s been 30 years since that first picture was taken. Where has time gone?

I suppose the answer can be found in the classic Steve Miller hit, “Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future…”

We all know it’s true. You can only travel through time in one direction. Forward. Looking back can be fun, but going back is impossible. Man may have learned how to fly like birds, send his image across the globe instantly as a spirit, and even create light at the flip of a switch like the Lord God Almighty, but there has not yet been, nor do I believe there ever will be, a man-made working time machine. No matter how advanced we think we are, time is one dimension man will never master. It just keeps on going by at the same speed as always, one second at a time.

Tick. Tock. Tick.

It certainly doesn’t feel that way. Sometimes we feel time stops all together. More often, we feel it whizzing by in fast forward. But in a large part, time defines our existence. It brings order and structure to our lives. And until we leave this world and go to the next it will be with us until we die.

Now I need to tell you what happened on Tuesday.

Every Tuesday at 6:00 we have handbells practice. I always look forward to it. I love playing the bells. I love our director. And I love the all the ladies in our choir. It’s a great bunch of gals.

Our director began the practice by telling us why Peggy wasn’t there. “She wasn’t feeling well,” I heard her say, “so they did some tests, and they found out she has pancreatic cancer.”

What? We were all stunned.

“She just found out?” Jan asked.

“Yes. She called me on Saturday. They’re just going to try and make her comfortable.”

“It’s progressed that far?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t believe it. Our Peggy? Dying? It didn’t make any sense. Peggy is a bit older than me, but she’s still in her prime. What will this do to her husband and sons? Or the law firm where she works? And, what will I tell Danica? Danica has gone on mission trips with Peggy and knows what a dear sweet, person she is. She’ll be devastated. What a shock.

I could barely keep my mind on the music. And then, Peggy walks in the door!

She looked tired, and like she had been crying, but she didn’t look like she was in too much pain. Our director asked her how she was doing, and she nodded and said she was all right. I wanted to rush over to her, but what would I say? What can you say to someone who has just found out they have a terminal illness? Perhaps that’s what held me back.

As soon as practice ended, I went over to her. We hugged. She cried. Through her tears she told me something. I couldn’t quite make it out. So I just nodded and hugged her again. “She’s ready to meet her Savior,” she said. I wondered why she was talking about herself in the third person, but maybe it was easier for her to talk about herself that way.

“I can’t believe it,” I told her. “You take such good care of yourself.” She made that funny little smirk Peggy always does when she’s thinking, and said, “So does she.”

“Wait,” someone said next to me. “Is it your mom?”

“Yes,” Peg nodded. “My mom.”

“Oh,” I exclaimed. “Your mom!”

“We thought it was you,” another friend put in.

For some reason (probably because we were visiting) our side of the table had missed that part of the news. We all thought it was Peggy who has dying. Thank goodness we heard wrong!

Eventually, we were able to talk to her and comfort her in her distress over her mother’s illness, but after 60 minutes of believing our friend was the one whose time was nearly up, it was with mixed feelings. Sympathy, laced with relief.

On my walk home I thought about what I had just learned and felt. It wasn’t Peggy who had cancer, but the truth is, it could have been. It could have been any of us. It could have been me. It could have been Jeff. It could have been one of my kids. Or one of my old friends from High School. Death does not discriminate. We can never know when our time is up.

So what’s the lesson here?

Without a doubt, this whole experience has made me appreciate the time I have even more. It’s sort of like an alarm going off. Wake up! Value the time you have. Every second. You don’t know how many more you’ll get.

Tick, tock, tick.

I hope you’ll think about that too as you listen to the Steve Miller Band hit I referred to in this blog. It’s Fly Like an Eagle, from 1976.You'll find it below my notes.

A few notes about this blog:

First, I suppose I should apologize to Danica. I handed her a copy of this blog to read, without warning her that Peggy was okay. She was quite upset and nearly stopped reading to text all her friends that Peggy was dying. And we wonder how rumors start.

The missing person on the left in the 2010 picture is our friend Betty. She’s alive and well and teaches grade school in Arizona now. We’re hoping to get together with her the next time she comes home. How ‘bout it, Betty?