The Passage of Time

Life has become very surreal lately. I have come face to face with the harsh reality of how time truly does fly. On the day you receive this blog, I will be celebrating my sixty-ninth birthday. That, in itself, is surreal, but the real moment of truth came on the day I took the picture above.

My grandkids call me NumNum (which is a topic for another blog) and seven years ago I started a summer tradition called Camp NumNum. I would organize a day of outdoor fun and games. It actually ended up being three separate days. I divided the clan up by age.

This year I decided the two oldest grandkids, Emily (15) and James (13), were ready to graduate from Camp NumNum. Much to their dismay.

To commemorate their graduation, we went on a field trip. I took them on a tour of my childhood in the suburbs of Chicago. I told them we were going on the Origins of NumNum Tour. I had matching tee shirts made for them with a Camp NumNum logo my grandson James had designed.

Off we went to my old grade school, the local Leaning Tower of Pisa replica in front of the YMCA where I took swimming lessons, and the forest preserves behind my house where I used to play all day and never worried about Mr. Stranger Danger.

We had a traditional Chicago hot dog at the famous Superdog and stopped in at a favorite diner whose name I knew would cause a chuckle with these young teenagers.  

But the real moment of truth came when I took a picture of Emily and James in front of the house that I grew up in. When I look at that snapshot, I see my teenage grandchildren, but behind them I see a boy at the front door picking me up for a date, my dad cutting the grass in his wingtips. He never wore gym shoes. My mom watching us go off to school from the upstairs window and my mom and dad, side by side, waving good bye at the front door when I would leave to head back to Milwaukee after a visit home.

I haven’t lived in Chicago for over 45 years and the original red brick house has had a couple face lifts, so it’s a real mixed bag of emotions when I visit the old homestead. There is a deep-seated fondness and at the same time a feeling of disconnection that comes over me. It’s like I don’t really belong in this place that at one time was the only place I really knew I belonged. This time around it conjured up even more conflicting emotions when I saw my grandchildren in front of my old bedroom window over the garage.

It made me keenly aware of the passage of time. It made me feel so small and so out of control. You can’t turn back time, you can’t stop time, you just have to roll with it. And some day time will run out.

But that snapshot also made me keenly aware of all that I have done in my life and all the blessings I have been given. Take time to ponder the snapshots of your life and how they reflect God’s faithfulness and deep, abiding love.

Joan