Time has a boundary.

It must.

Or,

Like the ocean,

It won’t stop.

It will cover us

It will overwhelm,

Take over.

We’d become

Overcome

By it.

 

It’s a lot of freedom

To trust mere mortals with.

To give us

The opportunity

Every day

To manage

Time.

To set the boundaries.

Keep the boundaries.

Honour the boundaries.

So it doesn’t switch

And start

To manage us.

 

It can be so rough on us.

Time.

Till we are quite slaves.

Usually unknowingly.

This week I honoured the boundaries of time.

Like reaching the shore

I accepted it done

Even if some was undone.

“Each day has enough trouble of it’s own.”

There is always tomorrow.

 

The result was

Peace.

More peace than is normal.

Quantitatively more.

I refused to hurry.

I refused to push

At those margins,

Those boundaries.

I drew back

And prioritized rest

Over productivity

When I reached

The shore.

The boundary.

My purpose in this one life

Is not perfection.

It’s not to prove

I CAN more than

Anyone else.

It’s not to seek accolades.

My purpose is to

Be present

Instead of perfect.

Simply led

Instead of chaotically charging ahead,

Terrified of falling behind.

To choose to value the accolades

Of a Heavenly Father

Who, though omnipotent,

Omnipresent,

Omniscient,

Chose to

Rest

Too.

 

 

I recall a tumultuous bedtime

And an exhausted little girl

And hearing her mommy say gently,

“This is your fence.”

Your boundary.

In your overtired,

Emotional upheaval,

This fence,

This boundary

Does not appeal.

Stopping.

Resting.

Silence.

Solitude.

No.

And you’d rather disregard

The wise voice above

And keep forever

Being tossed by

Unrelenting waves

Of time

That you were never meant

To endure.

 

But when she finally lay

Her tear streaked cheek

On her inviting pillow

She was out like a light.

The fight

Over.

The waves

Stilled

Washing up slow

Against the shore.

I want to honour time always.

Honour the shore.

Accept my limitations.

Rejoice in resting.

Value re-charging,

Over running on fumes.

 

So I close my day book

And leave my desk a clutter,

My classroom

Far from perfect.

I accept tomorrow’s mystery

And trust divine Providence,

that can see me through it,

And I go

Walk

On the shore.