Pausing Time

Today is June 1, and for many people this signifies the beginning of summer. School is ending and many of us are looking forward to swimming, sun, vacations, adventures, barbecues, beaches, and fireworks. But have you ever noticed how quickly summer can fly by?

The days start getting longer, the temperatures start getting warmer, and suddenly time speeds up. It’s Memorial Day, and then before you know it, it’s the Fourth of July. Then suddenly the kids are preparing to go back to school, the nights have a chill to them, and fall is on its way. My friend Tim says that once Memorial Day comes summer is almost over, because it goes by so quickly. Since he was the one to verbalize this phenomenon to me, I would like to hold him personally responsible. However, I have actually noticed that this is largely true for life. It goes by so fast. At times there are days that literally seem to last forever, and even weeks that drag by. But the seasons and the years fly past.

And I don’t want to miss it. I do not want to look back and ask myself where the time went. I want to know exactly how I spent my days and weeks and months. I want to know the story that I lived out. I want to remember the characters and the plot twists and the details. I want to remember the events the shaped my life, to hold tight and savor the beautiful moments, to appreciate the growth-producing effects of the hard and painful ones.

I don’t think that happens without effort. Unless we are intentional, we will miss this life that we are living. I am certainly still in the process of learning how to do this, and probably will be engaged in this process my whole life. The first thing I have learned is the importance of intentionally. We have to keep our eyes open and put effort into remembering. We cannot allow ourselves the excuses of poor memories or busy days.

I have found that keeping art around somehow helps me intentionally take note of life. Reading, listening to music, and enjoying the artistic creations of others opens my eyes to beauty and helps me hold to the moments. And, the art can become a marker for those moments. There was a silly pop song that came on the radio a lot when my son was a toddler. Whenever he heard it, he would stop what he was doing, smile, and dance like a crazy child. I loved it. For the rest of my life, that song will conjure up beautiful images of a joyful toddler bouncing, spinning, and dancing around the room with total abandon. The song became a symbol of a stage and a season I don’t want to forget. Music can do that, as can books and stories and movies and photography and visual art.

In ancient times whenever something significant happened, the people would either give a new name to the place where it occurred or they would build an altar there. We may not rename rooms in our house or literally build stone altars, but we can create special markers. We can write things down in family histories, baby books, or personal journals. We can take pictures. We can take videos. We can buy gifts or mementos. A wedding ring is not just a ring. It is a marker of a wedding, a marriage, and all of the moments tied up into the relationship between husband and wife. That small circle can point to all of those moments, big and small, that make a marriage. We can create markers of special moments to help us remember and hold tight.

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, we can live our lives with witnesses. When we share the details of our lives with other people, we invite them to join us in marking our lives. Every time we tell a story we strengthen the power of its memory. This is true for big moments and small ones. For over a year and a half, my daughter insisted on wearing rain boots. With her Sunday dresses, with her bathing suits, sometimes even to bed. She loved her rain boots, and they because a part of her and who she was in that stage of life. I have hundreds of pictures of her in her rain boots. I talked about it with my family and friends. I am writing it here. And each time I share that moment, there are more witnesses to this small but meaningful time in my life and my daughter’s life.

I can only imagine what this next season holds for you. I hope that it holds much laughter, joy, and beauty. And, I hope that you are able to briefly pause time and grab hold of some small moments to keep and treasure. I hope that when you look back at this season of life, you are able to remember the days, remember the story you lived, and remember what mattered.

#laurenshaw #counseling #time #memory #relationships