It is a well-known fact that I struggle with Time. Not having enough Time, not prioritizing my Time, spending enough quality Time, not wasting my Time, enjoying my Time and what will come in Time…just to name a few. I think about Time so much my ears will probably sprout hands and start circling my face.
So what do I really get for all of my hard work? What do you get? Salary? Appreciation? Satisfaction? If I think long and hard enough about it, I fear I will err toward Solomon and declare everything to be completely meaningless. But yet.
God has made everything beautiful for its own time.
As long as I am trying to use my time in a way that is glorifying to Him (even folding laundry), it is beautiful. Yes, beautiful socks with stained bottoms and holes in the toes. I cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from week to week much less in a lifetime (or beyond). I fold the clothes, I find the worn socks, I go to the store and replace them, I put brand-new clean socks on someone’s bed…and they feel loved. Taken care of. My job as a mother or wife has been filled for that day.
And my Time was made beautiful.
When I was a girl, I sang with my parents. My dad would arrange old-fashioned Southern Gospel songs to fit our three voices. We practiced for hours, and then traveled to small local country churches and sang for them. We had a pretty decent repertoire from my recollection, but the song that remains with me the most is the one called “In His Time”.
I remember it the best because I hated it the most.
It was hard to sing because I didn’t have the breath as a youngster to hold out the phrases the way my parents wanted me to. It was slow and boring and long, which made me yawn, and then I got in trouble for not trying. The soundtrack was, well…laughable. And I didn’t really get the point of the words anyway.
But now I do.
Who knows if there was anyone in one of those country churches who was touched by our ministry? Who knows if there is anyone that remembers in the furthest reaches of their memory a family with mother and daughter in hideously matching homemade dresses that came to sing? Who knows the impact of anything we do at any age in life makes?
Well, God does. And all things are made known in His time.
And even if I’m the only one to whom it matters, that’s ok too. Because God has used that song to help me focus my thoughts on Time. His Time. His beautiful Time just for me. So enjoy folding your socks if that is what it is time for you to do today. And while you are at it, I hope you enjoy strolling with me down memory lane and hearing my sweet little reverb voice and what it represents as much as I do.
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