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Time Keeps on Slipping

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."

--C.S. Lewis

Last week, I was driving home from Smoothie King. I had just finished a 10-mile ride on my bike and decided to have a deliciously satisfying fruit concoction. Heading home, I pulled onto Trenton Street, and soon afterwards the speed limit slowed to a blistering 25 miles per hour. As I slowed, I noticed this dear old man, dressed to a tee, cane in hand, walking on the shoulder of the road at the base of the grassy river levee. Driving slowly I was able to take in his appearance. A flat, derby style hat sat on top of his head that had long since let go of its hair. Oversized metallic spectacles rested heavily on his nose that was a little too big for his aged face. Below the nose and above the top lip was a thick mustache that time had transformed from what I imagined as a dark brown to its present state of dull white. Even in the May heat, he bore a muted gray button down cardigan that rested snugly on his feeble frame that I estimated had seen seventy plus years of sunrises and sets. Khakis and penny loafers finished out the attire, accompanied by a stylish but functional gentleman’s cane. As I passed, I lifted my free hand that was already cupping the warm air outside the window of the car to wave at the senior. He slowly raised his free hand too as his other steadfastly held his proud 165 pound body up and waved back with this endearing smile that will always stay with me.

I can’t put my finger on what strikes me about the man. Nichole would probably say it was his outfit. She is always telling me, and anyone who will listen, that I dress like an old man, but in her defense there is truth in her claims. I lived with my grandparents from my mid teens till I moved away when I turned twenty. Throughout high school I would scavenge through my grandfather’s closet for old shirts and pants. People paid top dollar for the “distressed” look. Vintage clothing was in style then, and I had the Mecca of old worn out clothes at my disposal. I still like the old hats and cardigans. I even walk at a snail’s pace; truth is I always have.

Honestly, I believe what struck me the most was the fact that he was walking alone. Since passing him on the road that day and lifting my hand and making eye contact with him, affirming that at that moment someone knew he was still here, still putting one foot in front of the other, still on his journey, I’ve wondered if he had to hold the hand of his high school sweetheart as she let go of this life and embarked on her new journey to the hereafter. I find myself still wondering if he has kids, and if so, I’ve wondered if they live nearby. I wonder if his grandchildren miss bouncing on his lap, giggling as the summer breeze kisses their skin and fills their senses with jasmine and comfort. I wonder if he still makes coffee for two or finds himself reaching over in the dead of a cold February night, hoping to warm his love with his closeness, only to find himself alone in a bed that two shared for longer than he cares to remember.

I can’t stop thinking about the brevity of this life. I’m terrified of the thought that soon the days I’ve lived will outnumber the days I have left; that is if the day hasn’t already come and gone. The old saying that we “wish our life away” is all too true. We spend so much time planning our lives that we forget to live them. The truth is that every day matters. Once this day is gone, we’ll never get it back, although I’m sure there will come a time we’ll wish we could.

We don’t realize how relational life is. We forget how important it is to connect to people. Take some time today and call you parents. Talk to them, but more importantly listen; better yet, call your grandparents. Men don’t grow to reach an old age by chance. There are life lessons in their stories. Listen. Let their words paint pictures for you. Realize they’ve got more things figured out than you. Compared to their wisdom, we are all fools. We are all just masquerading around, portraying this air of invisibility when in reality we are all broken; we all are lost just trying to figure out how to make it through life.

In their song “Burn out Brighter (Northern Lights),” Anberlin’s lead singer and songwriter Stephen Christian sings lyrics about living a life that matters. The song is based around the event that happened to their drummer during the recording on their latest album. The drummer was flying to the studio, and the plane he was on malfunctioned and began to plummet back to earth until the pilot finally gained control of the aircraft. Passengers and crew alike believed they had only moments to live. The verses of the song loosely chronicle the experience. The chorus goes on to say what was going through his mind about how he would live his life differently if he had the chance. It says this: “Live. I want to live inspired. Die. I want to die for something higher than myself. Live and die for anything else. The more I live I see this life’s not about me.”

Live today in the realization that it matters. Know that we don’t walk through our day-to-day life for practice. Live a life that shines like stars in the middle of a summer’s night. Connect with people. Learn from someone. Give yourself to others. Don’t count on money or things to make you happy. Love. And please, please, please don’t wait to do it, because in the words of The Steve Miller Band, “Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future.”

“Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.” James 4:14 KJV