I can’t believe how fast time flies, and like I always say —- Time should really get a speeding ticket, y’know. I think time goes faster when you’re older. Every year seems to go by faster than the previous one. And I wish there was a way to pack more hours into the day. Like a Day Booster pack perhaps, where you can choose the number of hours you need to add on, like a 6-hr or a 12-hr boost to your current 24 (where you accumulate points if you buy frequently and 10 points = 1 bonus hour)…I’m gushing. Won’t that be nice? That will be the day.
But God made the day with 24 hours. If you think about it, it is a perfect, beautiful and unquestionable design. It is us humans who screw it up with all our worldly matters.
John Burrough is right when he said, “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.”
But should we really panic? Should our desire to do things dictate the number of hours in a day we should get? Or should we let the 24-hr day dictate the amount of things we should CHOOSE to do?
My day is always packed with so many things to do: my daily responsibilities at work and at home, so many overflowing ideas needing execution (for my own sanity that is), some extra jobs here and there — sometimes I can’t even find where my head is, books I want to read, paperwork to accomplish, bills to pay, Facebook (duh!) yadadada yadadada…and then there are people to call like my parents back home (and I usually save that for last when I’m about to doze off which is sad because they only get half of me — half has already been beamed up to dreamland).
Today though, I decided to abandon everything in mid-air (including the TV show I try to watch regularly) and headed straight to calling my folks back home early. I enjoyed my conversation with my mom and dad like I always do. But what will forever be engrained in my memory as part of the most wonderful and beautiful conversations with my father is everytime we talked about the piano pieces that he is currently learning (he still strives to learn so many new ones at 73). Because he always tries to sing the tune to me — or hum it when it doesn’t have the words. He did it again today. And even whistled. Whistled!
I always try to join in as much as I can even if I’m off-key. Because I wanted to do my part in creating the special moment. Scheming, am I not! I don’t know if he was doing it on purpose to create a moment with me too. Knowing my dad? Maybe! Or maybe it was just a pure and spontaneous and unadulterated expression of love and bond even if we are thousands of miles apart. Because we are thousands of miles apart.
I’m grateful that I decided to dump my ”To Do” madness for the day. I’m glad I went straight to letting God’s beautiful design come into fruition, and just let the day be what it is, and what it should be made of. Precious. Priceless.
PS.
By the way, I slept soundly. And I thought I even heard some whistling in my dreams.
But God made the day with 24 hours. If you think about it, it is a perfect, beautiful and unquestionable design. It is us humans who screw it up with all our worldly matters.
John Burrough is right when he said, “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.”
But should we really panic? Should our desire to do things dictate the number of hours in a day we should get? Or should we let the 24-hr day dictate the amount of things we should CHOOSE to do?
My day is always packed with so many things to do: my daily responsibilities at work and at home, so many overflowing ideas needing execution (for my own sanity that is), some extra jobs here and there — sometimes I can’t even find where my head is, books I want to read, paperwork to accomplish, bills to pay, Facebook (duh!) yadadada yadadada…and then there are people to call like my parents back home (and I usually save that for last when I’m about to doze off which is sad because they only get half of me — half has already been beamed up to dreamland).
Today though, I decided to abandon everything in mid-air (including the TV show I try to watch regularly) and headed straight to calling my folks back home early. I enjoyed my conversation with my mom and dad like I always do. But what will forever be engrained in my memory as part of the most wonderful and beautiful conversations with my father is everytime we talked about the piano pieces that he is currently learning (he still strives to learn so many new ones at 73). Because he always tries to sing the tune to me — or hum it when it doesn’t have the words. He did it again today. And even whistled. Whistled!
I always try to join in as much as I can even if I’m off-key. Because I wanted to do my part in creating the special moment. Scheming, am I not! I don’t know if he was doing it on purpose to create a moment with me too. Knowing my dad? Maybe! Or maybe it was just a pure and spontaneous and unadulterated expression of love and bond even if we are thousands of miles apart. Because we are thousands of miles apart.
I’m grateful that I decided to dump my ”To Do” madness for the day. I’m glad I went straight to letting God’s beautiful design come into fruition, and just let the day be what it is, and what it should be made of. Precious. Priceless.
PS.
By the way, I slept soundly. And I thought I even heard some whistling in my dreams.
PPS. http://teacher-c.blog.friendster.com/2007/02/i-love-my-mom/
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