Grandfather Teaches a Lesson About Time

My grandfather stands, handsome and stoic, counting the hours, minutes, seconds of my life. 

At almost eight feet tall, he sits slap dab in the middle of the long hallway that dissects the front part of my southern home and the rear.  His handsome face – the face of Father Time – is encircled by a hand-painted moon dial featuring the seasons of the year.  Spring.  Summer. Autumn. Winter.   He is forever watchful as my family gathers in the great room in the evening and as we hurry past him in the morning, rushing to leave for the day.  Often as I pass, my hand reaches out to touch him affectionately, absentmindedly, feeling the cool, smooth grain of his buffed mahogany case.  

For the past ten years, Grandfather has told me when it is time to get up and when it is time to go to bed.  His melodious chimes have been the backdrop for all of our holiday celebrations and his long, slender hands have officially announced the arrival of the New Year for the past decade.    I have wearily listened to his lonely calling of the early morning hours during sleepless, worry-filled nights and anxiously counted down the hours with him as I waited for my son to get home after a long trip.  

Loudly and with purpose, Grandfather has warned me through the years that time flies out of my hands like sand blowing on a deserted beach. 

Suddenly, last summer, my grandfather clock fell silent.  He no longer reminds me when it is time to leave for my hour-long commute to work or when it is time for my family to arrive for a holiday dinner.  I cannot lie awake at night listening for time and am no longer comforted by his chiming voice. 

At first I thought I could fix him.  I tinkered with his innards and pushed around some of his parts, but he refused to speak to me.  I catch myself whispering to him as I pass by, asking him to please come back to me.  I miss his sweet music and I miss having time fill my home with ticks and tocks, music and chimes.

Not having my old clock to announce that I am running late or that deadlines are near or that the day is coming to an end, has made me re-evaluate how I spend my time.  I’ve found that I am a very poor steward of time.

I have been so very blessed in my life, but I’m not so sure I have taken the time to enjoy the blessings.  Days turn into weeks that turn into months and before I know it, a year has passed.  My son was born, started walking, went to school, learned to love music, started college….and I was present for all those events.  At least in body.  I’m pretty sure my mind was thinking about the next meeting or what to feed the people coming to my house after the event or how I was going to manage getting from place to place on time. And, I am positive I never took the time to savor the small things. 

We live in a 24/7 society with instant messaging, instant coffee, instant meals and instant replays.  

Like so many others, I spent the first half of my life reaching for the stars.  More money.  Bigger house.  Faster car.  Better title.  Today, I would give a year’s salary or more just to spend one more day with my daddy.

Live and learn, an old adage that is so very true.  The Bible says, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)   I have made more money; have a bigger house; driven a faster car and have a nice title following my name.  Today, I want more wisdom, more quiet time, and a bigger heart for Jesus. There simply is not enough time in our lives to do all the things our heart desires.  It doesn’t matter how much time we have; it matters what we do with that time.

A dear friend gave me the book, “The Knowledge of the Holy” by A. W. Tozer and it has become daily required reading for me.  I love this quote from Tozer:

“The days of the years of our lives are few, and swifter than a weaver’s shuttle.  Life is a short and fevered rehearsal for a concert we cannot stay to give.  Just when we appear to have attained some proficiency we are forced to lay our instruments down.  There is simply not time enough to think, to become, and to perform what the constitution of our nature indicates we are capable of.”

He continues, “How completely satisfying to turn from our limitations to a God who has none.  Eternal years lie in His heart.  For Him, time does not pass, it remains; and those who are in Christ share with Him all the riches of limitless time and endless years.”

Because time is such a precious and priceless gift, we should manage it very well and strive to be good stewards of our time.   I guess it took the silence of my grandfather clock to remind me to seek silence and peace in my life.

To stop.  To listen.  To be grateful.

Very early Saturday morning I was alone having coffee in my kitchen. My house was quiet and still; everyone else still asleep.  No radios or televisions or cell phones.  Just me and my dog, Zeke.  As I sat there, I realized that I was hearing music from somewhere.  Very faintly, I could hear a melody of some kind.  I wandered out of the kitchen and stood in the middle of the house trying to determine where the lovely sound was coming from.  As I neared my Grandfather clock, I stopped.  I laid my head against his wooden case and listened.  Sure enough, I could hear his chimes.  He had not stopped speaking to me at all.  He was just whispering and I had not been still or quiet enough to hear him.  If I leaned my ear against his wooden chest and listened carefully, I could hear his Westminister chimes clearly, followed by his Big Ben dong striking the 6 am hour.

I stopped.  I listened.  I am grateful.