The Timing of A Life
The truth is, the timing of a life is a funny thing. Often, we don't feel ready for the season we're in or anxious for what comes next. But it seems to me that in all those in-between moments, where the time is just layering, is precisely where the thrust of life takes place. And though it seems unfair to lose people or experiences because the time isn't right, those losses are exactly what prepare us for the very time when it is right. Those moments would never arrive without the loss of the former.
Sure, if I could return to my twenties with today's wisdom and a softened heart, it would likely lead to a completely different story for myself. But, I have this wisdom and tenderness because I lived through some very refining years. There is this love-worn way about a soul that has walked through loss, grief, and suffering that no other walk could produce. I am all the better for every difficult moment, yet I still sting for the shaping years where I got so much wrong.
I wish I could reach into the past and whisper the truth over my failures. I wish I could reflect my heart onto the people I'd love to simply thank for extending grace when mine was missing. I wish I could heal the wounds I caused from my own immaturity and carelessness. Oh, that I could take current-day courage to my past insecurities and speak truth over wrongs I witnessed. I wish I could bravely face situations that needed my voice instead of fading into the background. To have simply stood in the face of injustice, regardless of personal cost, would have meant so much. I long to capture moments that I let slip away and redeem them for good. If only I could re-time my days. But I know the timing of a life is in the hands of the Time Maker.
I trust the hands of the Maker creating the work that is my story. He knows what I need when I need it—the breaking of clay, the molding, and shaping, done in His timing, not mine. The piecing together of my fragments to make something of substance takes a lifetime, one lived moment at a time, to come full circle.
That is the timing of a life.
I can release this stored-up oxygen in a trusting sigh that all the wrong times were the makings for the right times. I can know He is good and faithful, even with my failures. And as clearly as my fingers run across these lettered buttons, He is still working over and through time to complete the story. He is ever redeeming.
Even Me.
Sure, if I could return to my twenties with today's wisdom and a softened heart, it would likely lead to a completely different story for myself. But, I have this wisdom and tenderness because I lived through some very refining years. There is this love-worn way about a soul that has walked through loss, grief, and suffering that no other walk could produce. I am all the better for every difficult moment, yet I still sting for the shaping years where I got so much wrong.
I wish I could reach into the past and whisper the truth over my failures. I wish I could reflect my heart onto the people I'd love to simply thank for extending grace when mine was missing. I wish I could heal the wounds I caused from my own immaturity and carelessness. Oh, that I could take current-day courage to my past insecurities and speak truth over wrongs I witnessed. I wish I could bravely face situations that needed my voice instead of fading into the background. To have simply stood in the face of injustice, regardless of personal cost, would have meant so much. I long to capture moments that I let slip away and redeem them for good. If only I could re-time my days. But I know the timing of a life is in the hands of the Time Maker.
I trust the hands of the Maker creating the work that is my story. He knows what I need when I need it—the breaking of clay, the molding, and shaping, done in His timing, not mine. The piecing together of my fragments to make something of substance takes a lifetime, one lived moment at a time, to come full circle.
That is the timing of a life.
I can release this stored-up oxygen in a trusting sigh that all the wrong times were the makings for the right times. I can know He is good and faithful, even with my failures. And as clearly as my fingers run across these lettered buttons, He is still working over and through time to complete the story. He is ever redeeming.
Even Me.
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