The Marching of Time

I was going to post this yesterday, but I could not find my notebook, which is a common occurrence since I have many notebooks to keep track of. 

Speaking of which, I have not been able to find one of my notebooks for, well, I guess it's been two years now.  It was sad because that was my notebook I had written some of my early songs in. I could still remember some of them, but not all. I searched our bedroom several times, but to no avail.  I had given it up as lost. 

Today my brother came up to me and said, "I have something that will make you very happy."  I wondered what it could be.  Out from behind his back he brought a book covered in pictures of vegetables and garden tools. I did not allow my hopes to get up yet because my sisters have books that look exactly the same.  However when he told me where he found it, I knew it must be mine.  He found it in an old purse that my sister crocheted for me a long time ago. It has been hanging in our bedroom for a long time.  I never even thought to look in it.  Not only was that book in there, but also my diary that I started in 2009 that I though was lost forever.  I have no idea why he was looking in there, but needless to say this time he was not reprimanded for snooping! 

My notebook with this next piece of writing in it was found today, so I now can post it.

The Marching of Time

It is strange, almost amazing, how time slips by, so silently at times that we do not notice its passage.  You can just sit and do nothing, and time slips methodically by, second by second.  You can get up and run a marathon, and time still time slips methodically by, second by second.  Neither being active or inactive changes the speed of time.  It seems to, but in reality it does not.

You can sit down and watch time slip by, bringing closer and closer a dreaded event, or pushing farther and farther a cherished memory. 

There are moments when Time seems cruel, as it slowly drains away and leaves us to face decisions that can no longer be ignored.  Cruel, also, when someone's time runs out; their breath stops and time bothers them no longer.

There are moments when Time is a joyous thing, bringing close joyful occasions, and the healing or fading of past hurts and painful memories.

Time marches on.  Once it has gone no one can call it back.  No one can reclaim the wasted moments, the hasty words spoken in anger, the one bad judgement that seems to bring the world crashing down, nor change the passing of a loved one.  All we can do is gather the pieces and move forward with the time left us, making the most of every moment, looking over our shoulders only to learn from past mistakes, or thank God for His many blessing and provisions.

Time is marching on.  You can't change the past- how will you change the future?