Last evening a funny thing happened. I had charged up my bygone Galaxy 9 to access some poems stored there. Suddenly, there was an oddly familiar noise! My 6:10 am alarm was going off on that old phone. Apparently it was 2021 (maybe 2022) at 6:10 am on June 16 in that previous life, and I needed to get up and ready for work. What an interesting blast from the past. What a juxtaposition of calm evening with early morning rush!
I couldn’t help a small smile thinking about all those mornings scrambling out of bed, powered by adrenaline to shower and pick out something from the hangers of rather unbecoming teacher clothes (I could never justify spending much on clothes), grab a lunch, fill my travel cup with hot black coffee, and run out the door. Now it is a different year, a different time of day, and a different life. I still get up early but other than that almost nothing is the same. It felt like the Past walked right in through the front door, and I didn’t recognize him at first.
Have you ever had that happen? Maybe looking through boxes for a book to lend to a friend, and there it is: an old photo, or a letter from years ago, and suddenly you’re somewhere else. In another place, another time. I have found in my current stage of life that the Past is walking in often, interrupting the clamour of the Present, hushing the insistent calls of the Future.
Perhaps it is the empty rooms where my grown up kids have slept. I walk in and go through a box or two, finding colouring books and little photo albums, cards they made for us or each other, and it’s easy to get lost in reminiscing about those beautiful early days where we were always together, and life seemed brimming with possibilities. One comfort is knowing I tried my best to cherish the time and make memories. Even with a frenetic pace of life, there were magic in-between times where I simply watched the kids play in the big Mayday tree, or took pictures of Dylan reading stories to them in the evening. He’s the best storyteller.
Perhaps it is having more time than before, less running to sports games and lessons and birthday parties, less evening homework and late night marking, less Can We Survive Today and Will We Survive Tomorrow. There are lulls in time when memories creep in. I have a Mother’s Day card my son made when he was about 7 on the fridge door. There’s a card I sent my daughter a few years ago that says “I Miss Your Face” on the shelf in my office.
Perhaps it is more fun to think about the past when the present is sometimes lacking. The life we are living at the moment feels somewhat unspectacular, the mood a bit dull. Everything is both predictable and totally not what was expected, all at the same time. Oh, we can throw ourselves into work or a project or take on a litany of responsibilities that would probably make a difference, but all I can think about is the exhaustion and the inevitable “thud”. Yes, I’ve grown somewhat cynical. I have to battle against it. The spark is gone, like when you go to light a candle with that BBQ lighter you’ve been meaning to throw out for 5 years and it just goes, “Click, click. Click click click click click clickclickclick” and nothing happens.
I feel like people look at me expecting something more exciting, more courage or interest, a bit of get-up-and-go — and I get it. I have been more of a go-getter in the past. Sign me up!! Give me that project!! I had lots of ideas, started bible studies, led groups, did VBS and soccer clubs and 5-Day clubs, took on the leadership of a scattered worship team, wrote speeches, went the extra mile. I can see needs around me now, as well. The difference is I’m not going to throw myself into anything without clear direction from the Pilot, lest I go off course. There’s much less time, it seems, to waste.
That reminds me of a story. A long time ago when I was around 18 I was dating a beginner pilot in the TWU Aviation program. He had this great idea. Why don’t we fly from Langley to Edson? He researched it and figured out the path we could take. Basically, we could fly VFR (visual) all the way, following the river. One problem was having enough fuel for that little two seater Cessna to make it the whole way. We mapped out the towns we would stop to fill up along the route. Unfortunately, from the air rivers look a lot alike. There was a bit of a panic as we flew over a rather mountainous airport. Something didn’t look right. He had me take the “wheel” in a tight orbit as he poured over the flight maps and log book, and finally realized we had followed the Fraser to Lillooet, not the Thompson and Athabasca toward Edson!
Being young and resilient, we made it just fine after correcting course and picking up some fuel. But there were a few tense moments, lost over the vast mountain ranges of British Columbia. How happy was I to see that Edson runway, land the little, shaky plane, and see my family gathered around to meet us! The lost time didn’t make a difference, really. Not then. Life stretched ahead like a misty horizon over distant hills.
Thinking about how fast time goes is futile, however. All we really have is today to set things right. This feeling of being frozen between what was and what is to come won’t last forever, I know. It’s just a bump, a wrinkle in the pathway of time. There is still worthy work to do, and projects I can throw myself into, but they must have the seal of approval from the Master. I am not interested in wasting time flying up the wrong river, trying to figure out how I got there.
When the Past walks in, I stop and spend a little time talking. We smile and laugh, and wink and shake our heads. There’s a lot to process sometimes, a pile to unpack. I value the lessons learned and the hard times overcome, stopping to touch and read the milestones as they appear. I knew it would go fast. But part of me thought I could go back, I think. I thought the door would be left open, but there’s just a window behind and a path ahead.
When the Past walks in, I wait a while and let the emotion sit with us. It might be sadness, sweet nostalgia, regret, joy, gratefulness. Hope. There’s nothing more wonderful than feeling hope! It ties the past and future together, and glows bright in the present. Even when much is lost, there are few left who remember, and the world is changed…simple joys continue to be found in every day. I am thankful to have lived many stories, and thankful too for the prospect of more to come.
And who knows what adventures we may still see?
Stories for Humans 