God’s Gift of Time

By Beverly Beckham
and Grandparents.com
Dec. 25, 2009

The letter arrived a few weeks before Christmas, when my children were young. “Give Time to family and friends,” it said. “Time is the ideal gift.”

The letter was referring to Time the magazine, of course, not the real thing.

But what if you could give time, I wondered. What if you could wrap it in silver and tie it with a red satin bow and present it to the people you love?

Fantasy. Pure conjecture. Yet wonderful to consider.

I imagined collecting time, packing years in a box for a daughter then 14, who, when she looked in a mirror, saw all that she thought was wrong with her. Time would give her a peek into the future, of the woman she would become — bright and witty and beautiful.

I fantasized about saving time for my son, collecting his boyhood and packing it away so that when he was a man and encumbered by a man’s responsibilities, he would be able to live again those days when life’s biggest problem was where to play baseball.

I dreamed of freezing time for my youngest child, stopping the days from marching past, not for her sake but for mine. I didn’t want her to ever outgrow my lap.

To give time for Christmas. Would that we could. I’d relive this time:

“Want to skip school today? Go to the beach?”

My older kids say, “No! Are you crazy? It’s December. It’s too cold for the beach.”

But the youngest runs upstairs to get her shovel and mittens. We search for sea glass and chase seagulls. “I wish I could fly,” she whispers dreamily.

“But you might fly away and not come back,” I say, hugging her.

“No, Mommy,” she says, hugging back. “I would never leave you.”

She did leave me, of course. That’s what children do.

This child who climbed on my lap has two children now. My son is a 40-year-old man with two children of his own. The then 14-year-old is a beautiful woman with a daughter of her own.

And my husband and I are now doting, over-the-moon, let-me-tell-you-about-my-grandchildren grandparents.

Give Time, the letter said.

My grandchildren are 6 and 5 and 2 and nine months and I think that now, this time, is so perfect that there’s no wishing it backward or forward.

I’d wrap it in silver and tie it with a red satin bow if I could. To enjoy it now but save it for another Christmas, too.

For this is the real gift of time — that it passes but it also stays. That we can go back. That we never really lose what is gone.

Source: Grand Parents

 

Editor’s Note: We would like to know what you think. dan@youngchronicle.com