For so many years I would ask God, “when?” and God would respond, “soon,” much as a mother tells a small child to wait for Christmas. God’s soon could mean anything. Remember, “A day is a thousand years for God, a thousand years but a day.” The mother’s soon means one thing to the child, too soon for the parent trying to get everything ready for Christmas.
Lately though, I have found myself saying “too soon,” over and over again. Too soon, summer was over this year. It feels like I hardly had a summer. No blistering hot days in succession to make me happy to have it over and ready for cold; it was a mild summer. Too soon, snow, cold and ice came in early November instead of waiting appropriately for December. Too soon, time is passing all too soon. And for those who have lost a loved one, it almost always comes too soon, no matter how prepared you may think you are.
For so many years I’ve waited to finally have time to devote to writing. I would ask, “when?” and God would say, “soon.” But for the past year, I have asked God, “When?” and God says, “Now.” Now is the time.
I remember waking from a dream last year with the words in my head, “Write while you still can.” That message has been my mantra for this past year as I’ve put into published form novels I have been working on, off and on, for a number of years. It seems there is something pressing me to write while I still have time.
Too soon, arthritis may rob me of the ability to put pen to paper or type; too soon, forgetfulness and aging may rob me of the capacity to remember story lines and characters. I have to make the best of this time that I have. So if I seem a little crazy, publishing five novels in less than a year, it’s because I’m on God’s time line, not my own. I have to do it now, while the time is ripe.
Too soon, this life will be over all too soon. When that day comes, what will we have to show for it?
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