I was wondering aimlessly around my kitchen last Monday, waiting on my instant grits to heat in the microwave. That's about the only meal I have on a consistent basis in my new place.
Aimless is a good description because I just haven't dared to fix anything remotely similar to what I used to cook for Tony. I just don't have it in me; even if I did, I'd probably set something on fire or cut another one of my fingers (just ask my brother who witnessed both of those incidents during my pre-marriage days!).
I began to spin the spice rack, one of our many wedding gifts; I noticed all the jars were almost full, all but one. The spice that was low was thyme.
How ironic. I am running low on thyme. And the last meal I actually used that spice rack was roughly a year ago, when I really was unknowingly running low on time, time with my Tony.
And time ran out.
I was reading a journal entry from another widow this week. She writes that she has learned that "heaven is closer than we think."
I think this phrase is a whole lot more meaningful than the all too cliche saying, "Life is short."
Who are we to determine what is short when it comes to life? Who are we to determine how much time we have allotted in our jar? I often wonder if God just shakes His head at us on earth trying to measure time that He never intended us to, trying to measure the fullness of life by the number of years we live, trying as desperately as we can to create more time, to stretch the time we've got, to do anything and everything to make our lives last longer on this earth.
And when life is cut shorter than we think it should be, we try to make sense of the "why." Well, I am fully convinced that we're just not supposed to fully know "why." God never intended for us to. He doesn't measure time or life the way we do.
I stood in church this morning heavy-hearted. Of course, I carry a heavy heart because of my own loss. Today added more heaviness for a friend who just lost her 20-year-old son to a brain tumor. If that wasn't enough, on top of that was more grief for Tony's family riffled again by tragedy, this time his 24-year-old cousin who passed away Friday.
I stood in church and sang the most perfect song to cover my heaviness, to cover my "why," - "How Great is Our God." These verses say it best:
"Time is in His hands, beginning and the end, beginning and the end."
And if God's got time in His Hands, then it's just enough for me.
How Great is our God.
Dearly loved, with just enough thyme and time,