Got Time?

One year when my kids were teenagers, all three of them asked for watches for Christmas. And they all asked for the same brand of watch ... Fossil ... yep, Matt, Brad and Meghann each asked for a Fossil watch for Christmas that year. Matt and Meghann wanted the standard kind of watches; in fact, I'm pretty sure both of them asked for silver watches with blue faces. But Brad ... Brad wanted a silver pocket watch. Of course Brad wanted a pocket watch ... he's always had his own unique sense of style. I'm pretty sure my middle kiddo wore nothing but black t-shirts that were emblazoned with different band logos for oh ... maybe a decade or so. And there were the orange Puma sneakers ... I'm not even going to attempt to guess how many years Brad wore those orange shoes. And the ever-present ball cap. Of course Brad wanted a different type of watch, and a pocket watch most definitely fit his teenage-years style in a big way.

I found Brad's pocket watch a few days ago when I was cleaning out one of my dresser drawers, and I cried like a baby when I removed it from the little cloth bag where it's rested for so many years. Yep, that's right ... a silver pocket watch in a little cloth bag caused me to dissolve into tears as I sat on the corner of my bed listening to the sound it made as I opened and closed it. Now you know and I know it wasn't the watch itself that made me cry ... it was the race down memory lane ... it was memories of days when my house was filled with all the noise that accompanies a bunch of teenagers ... it was understanding that the true passage of time could never be measured by the silver pocket watch I held in my hand. Obviously, since Brad's pocket watch still resides at my house rather than his, the day eventually came when Brad no longer carried it and a cell phone became his timekeeper of choice instead.

When I'm fighting a case of the blues like I have been for the last several days, it's almost as if time comes to a standstill ... it feels as though time is stuck right alongside me. And when I feel stuck ... when time feels stuck ... my natural instinct is to crawl into my cave until both my heart and time start moving again. This afternoon, one of my young friends at work sent me a message that said, "You okay over there?" to which I replied, "Yeah ... why?" I didn't expect the response I received, and tears filled my eyes when I read his words. "You're hiding out at your desk with your headphones on and you're not talking to anyone. And you were that way on Friday too. And you didn't blog on the weekend. You're our heart and our compass here, Terrie. We notice when you aren't okay because we love you. You may think you can cover it up when you're sad, but you can't hide from me friend."

I've thought all evening about my young friend and how kind it was of him to take the time to send such a sweet and caring message to me. Time ... taking the time ... that young man took the time today to express his concern for me ... to tell me I'm loved ... to notice that I've been off my game for the last few days. The more I've thought this evening about the young man's message, the more I've come to realize something. It's the people in my life who take the time that make me want to strive to be a better person. The people who take the time to care ... to love ... to encourage ... to call me out ... to listen ... to speak ... to help ... those people make me want to be a person who takes the time for others. The young man's message today reminded me of how important it is not to let the tyranny of the urgent get in the way of taking the time to care about my fellow man.

Maybe I'll get a new battery for Brad's silver pocket watch ... maybe I'll carry it in my own pocket ... maybe I will, friends ... maybe I will indeed.