Enough Time

My alarm went off, and I wondered if I really needed to get up.

I love the morning, especially when it’s quiet, and no one is awake yet. Every year I love it more. Every year I get older and wake up earlier. Today it was 5:34 AM, just enough time to workout before my oldest needed to be on the bus. Enough time to breathe in the quiet before I heard the thunderous steps of my third born son (who will wake at 7 AM without fail). Enough time to write down the thoughts that plague me at 34, enough time to read a book, enough time to offer up a one-sentence prayer. I love the routine of it–this is what I’ve been doing for the last two years. Rising early so I have enough time.

I wondered this morning if I really needed to get up early, today of all days. It’s my 34th birthday, and I thought, if I should sleep in, today would be the day. I laid there thinking on it, pondering the different scenarios of how this morning could go if I stayed in bed. On mornings like this, when routine and discipline are not things I want to embrace, I know that I only have minutes before it will flee from my grasp. I will talk myself out of anything, and it will only take one thought in a matter of seconds for any resolve to crumble. Today I turn 34, and it would feel better to do something that helps me feel well. That’s the thought that made me drag myself from bed, change my clothes, venture to my basement workout area, and do a stupid workout. Something that helps me feel well.

Enough time.

I haven’t written a blog post in a long while. I forgot how much I loved this space, writing for the sake of art, and creating something out of nothing but words that make sense to me. I work in full-time ministry, love my family full-time, try to hug my husband at least once a day, have friends that remind me of the glory and love of God, not eat fast food every day, take a shower at regular intervals. You know, regular life things. Coming here is not top of mind nor has writing been something I’ve invested any time in for over two years. But I’m a sucker for sentimentality, and today I turn 34, so I would love nothing more than to write about it. Reflect on how enough time doesn’t seem to be a real thing anymore, especially when it falls through my fingers like sand and escapes my desperate grasp.

Time is so fickle.

I have these moments in my old age (I know, I’m not old, but I’ve never been this old before, you know what I mean?) when the moment I’m in draws me to a full stop. It feels like a secret is about to be released into the world, a knowing that the moment I’m in is one that I need to bookmark in my mind forever. The other night, my daughter was telling me about her day in school, and I felt the shift. I heard her and yet didn’t. I saw her face like I hadn’t seen it everyday for nearly seven years. Look at her. Look at how she has grown and changed and become. What a marvel that I get to witness it. And then it was over, like my fingers had snapped and my focus fell into place. It was a brief moment of wonder, a recognition that time will pass whether I’m paying attention or not. That my daughter is slowly but surely becoming.

The moment passed, our conversation (which was truly one-sided–she has so much to say sometimes that I never get a word in. I don’t mind.) continued, and my heart felt so full. Brimming to the top with the realization that this is a gift and a joy and a good, beautiful thing. This life of moments, realizations, and breaths is so quick and so slow, if I recognize it. It will continue passing like sand through my fingertips, but I’m realizing I don’t have to grasp it to love it, to enjoy it. The gift of this life is that so much can change in a short span of time. I can change. There was a time when I think my fingers were seeking purchase on every single grain of sand, aching for peace over every moment but failing to find it. My brow was often furrowed and my mind was reeling from trying incredibly hard to be enough at every moment because every moment didn’t seem like enough time.

Every moment counts, and I can’t grab every moment fast enough. Time is even more fickle when fear, worry, and anxiety are my closest friends.

But 34-year-old me has a little more wisdom. A stint of anxiety inked on her arm. A medal for making it through every worst day I’ve ever seen. I’m realizing what isn’t worth my time and celebrating the enough-ness of right now in this moment: I have enough time when I just let the grains fall.

And thank God.

When I’m not trying to cling to what I can’t hold onto, my arms don’t feel so heavy. When I’m not trying to grab every moment and make it enough, I realize I have what I need. I can let it flow through my hands and breathe with every moment, recognizing that I don’t hold everything together. It was like trying to build a sandcastle with dry sand, scurrying to push it all into place only to watch it fall. So silly, now that I look back. But she didn’t know. She was trying her best, and I’m wholly grateful that I am still learning that I don’t know it all.

There is and there isn’t enough time. I know that now, but I’m sure I’ll keep learning it each year around this time. As my kids grow, as I see them change day by day. As I grow and become, hopefully more like Jesus with every step and moment. As the numbers tick higher and my age keeps going up (that’s a funny thought). I have enough time because I am alive right now. That’s the gift of aging, existing, living. There’s enough because there’s still breath in my lungs. And when that recognition hits, the world freezes for a second. I see me, 34 and really, younger today than I ever will be again. Look at her. Look at how she has grown and changed and become. What a marvel that I get to live it. My focus snaps into place, and there is a brief moment of wonder.

It is all a gift. It is enough time. And I get to live it.