Time is the only thing that separates us from one incident to another. We could drive calmly down a street, that had once witnessed a terrible accident. The only thing that separates us from the squeal of wheels, and the sickening crunch of metal - is time. We could stand on the shore of Long Island, looking up on that tall and ageless Statue of Liberty. We could feel that we are all alone, but the only thing that separates us from the past teeming generations of homeless immigrants - is time.
I was reclined on a bench outside some restrooms the other day, and began to observe people - as I am often apt to do when in a bored or contemplative nature. I noticed a startling thing. Old people - shuffling from the bathroom, and then the contrast of the young chubby hands clinging to their fingers. It is not as though the thought of ‘age’ suddenly walked up and hit me in the face - and said, “Hello, I’m coming for you soon.” But, I realized that time is the only thing that separates the old from being what they once were - young, unaware, and unconquerable. Profound, no?
It just struck me - that America - with all of her cures and conveniences and answers - can do nothing for death. I suddenly felt pity for the middle -aged woman who looked haggard and tired. I wanted to inform her, “You have the disease! How can you walk on like life is so long? Quick! Live, while you still have time!" The brevity of life, for the first time - hit me. I’ve always wanted to die young , because people always flock to and cry over a young body being lowered into the ground.
“Such a shame!” they whisper amongst themselves. “She had so much to live for!”
But, now, I’ve quite realized that, yes, life is short. No, I don’t like movies where a story begins with a person born pink and healthy, and then crows ’The End!’ after showing their fallow white faces on the death bed. That’s just plain depressing!! But, I’m realizing that I want tomorrow, even though it is no guarantee. I figure every moment I am still living and breathing -it's a pretty good thing I've got. My youth is something I can never run back for, because the day I was born, I began to get older. Imagine that! Growing up, all of my friends couldn’t wait to be one year older - and yet I always felt deep inside that my days were numbered. So how do most people spend their time? This is a mystery to me.
My solution? Live! No irony or philosophy there! I don’t long for death any more than the next person, so I am certainly not going to wake every morning with doom in my eyes. I believe life should be enjoyed! Everyone seems so focused on themselves. The depravity of man, they say. But when all are done helping themselves, who will remember anyone when they are all gone? My what a contemplative mood I am in! And yet, it seems inescapable. I believe more than ever that there is a purpose for living. Why would God give us breath, and not want us to believe He stood us up on these feeble, human legs for a reason? Yes, I believe in God, more than anything else I believe in. After all, with time holding me in its grasp, how can I not believe in the One who has power over time? Isn’t it fascinating, to think that someday - time will be no more?
My country would do good to remember how we were founded. I had a recent debate with a man with beady eyes and leathery skin. I call him ‘My Cynic’, and when he heard that, he seemed rather shocked and then he laughed and said, “Yes, I like it.” My Cynic argued that my country was not founded on Christian principles. This, I learned, is a common enough debate. I, of course, dusted off books and spread them before him courageously - but not because the point needed to be proved. It’s because I believe, with all my heart, that my God is not done with my America. Time may separate us from the heroes that went against all reason and fought the red coats, but the soil where we stand is still beneath our feet - as it was beneath theirs. The question is - what will we do with it?
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