Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie.
Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays.
Man alone measures time.
Man alone chimes the hour.
And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures.
A fear of time running out.
My friend. My enemy.
Time and I have rarely seen eye to eye in the past. Reading this book, has definitely helped me see a little more clearly, Time waits for no woman. Time makes no apologies. Time keeps no record or accounts. Time owes no one.
In this story, Father Time, the first man on earth to begin counting the hours is banished to an eternity of listening to people ask for more time. This punishment was the price he had to pay for trying to measure God’s greatest gift to us. His saving grace comes centuries later, when his mission is to teach two people the true meaning of time; a girl on the brink of suicide and a man obsessed with immortality.
This book is phenomenal. Cecilia Ahern was right in saying that Mitch Albom finds the magical in the ordinary.
It’s about time you read it.
There is a reason God limits man’s days. To make each one precious.
On a side note: In life, the regrets rarely leave hurt behind, but the redemption has given me new hope. Things can and will get better when we leave it in His hands.
Thank you. Our story is not over yet.
Thinking of: John Mayer’s Neon, Eva Cassidy’s Wade in the Water, JB weddings, how Singapore is becoming a little more attractive and the sweet and finally acceptable silence.