At the end of it all…

I could be obsessed with time… seasons, schedules and how to pack it all in. I mean, I think about time a lot. Not like the lady in Chinatown who has nine different Rolexes up her sleeve. She’s just trying to make a buck off of unsuspecting tourists.

My one handed watch was gifted to me a couple of Christmases ago. It’s from Switzerland – not the lady in Chinatown – and it was not “a special low price for you today”.

I randomly found the Slow Jo online and shared it with my daughter. And because she wins at gift giving, she went through hoops (and her own cash money) to get it for me. Here’s a photo because I know you want to see it. And the quote from the founders (complete with the link).

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You may find yourself wanting to order one for your very own self. In which case, I should have set up a referral program (dang it!).

Plus, if you do order one, you’ll have an automatic conversation starter. In fact, only one person in the course of my travels has ever seen one before. It was the cashier at the grocery store who used to live in Europe.

What the heck Sherri? Is this a watch commercial?

I digress. Let me return to the point of this post.

It’s all about perspective.

It’s this concept of slowing down and taking time to enjoy and appreciate life. However, I continue squeezing the most of every waking hour (um, yeah, it’s actually 3:24am as I write this). These words have been circulating in my head for days, and now they’ve roused me to make their escape.

It began last Thursday when we were preparing for Walter’s memorial service. Walter was this belligerent interesting codger character that I’ve known for the last fourteen or fifteen years. Generally speaking, he and I had a decent friendship. He was antagonistic at times, obnoxious at others, but he hung around our church office like he belonged there.

In many ways, he did. Our pastor (and my boss) has a soft spot for those alone in the world. And Walter was alone. No spouse, children, siblings or parents, just us. And when your boss embraces someone as family, you do too.

As Walter’s health began to fail, he had softer and kinder moments. He and I found more to talk about. He was a gun enthusiast, and while I would not classify myself as such, I did grow up hunting with my dad. Walter loved that we had a shared interest. We even went to the gun range and a gun show together. It gave him a chance to show off his knowledge, and even a dying old man likes to impress a younger woman (perspective, remember?).

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My target was originally on top, and when I kept hitting too low, we traded spots.

Usually it’s the family members who gather items for the memorial service. So I spent time sorting through and cleaning up some of his memorabilia: a tool box, a tie, some photos, and a hat from the American Legion (no guns). His well loved and partially restored Miata was parked out front to greet everyone.

About fifty of us took time to honor this eccentric man who adopted us. The “service” consisted mainly of retold stories – a couple of which included the original profanity. Some tears were shed from sadness, and but many more from laughter. At one point I nearly fell right out of my chair. It may have seemed inappropriate to some, but isn’t that what makes a true family?

The idea struck me – this is what is left. A pile of dusty old stuff and a gathering of those who tolerated loved us.

Ecclesiastes 3 starts with this:

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die…”

Perhaps your stuff isn’t old and dusty, maybe it’s collectable and well catalogued. Maybe you’ve got more than fifty friends who would gather, or maybe just five. Maybe you’re not even old enough to begin thinking of such things, but honestly, who knows what will happen in any given day?

Which brings me back to the watch….

I am striving to live as well as possible for the next twenty-four hours. I want to learn and grow and expand.  I will make some plans, but also allow room for flexibility and spontaneity. What I do know is that time is not unlimited. I can only be aware of how I spend each moment.

How are you spending your moments?

Will your accomplishments have mattered? Will they matter in five days? Five months? Five years?

Are you creating memories or gathering stuff? Will those around you have funny stories to share at your service (profanity optional)?

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Just a little big something to think about.

Thanks for reading…until next time,
Sherri

 

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