Time is a Gift

Anita's reflections on our use of time in Dreaming Beneath the Spires this morning have sent me back down memory lane to an old and favourite prayer of mine, 'Lord, I have Time,' by Michel Quoist. Here are the closing lines:

For time is Your gift to us -

But a perishable gift, a gift that doesn't keep.

Lord, I have time

I have plenty of time,

All the time You gave me,

The years of my life,

The days of my years,

They are all mine. Mine to fill,  quietly, calmly, 

But to fill  completely, right to the brim - 

To offer to You, that of their stale water

You may make a rich wine, as once at Cana for a 

human wedding feast.

I don't ask this evening Lord,

for time to do this or that.

I ask for the grace to do conscientiously,

in the time that You gave me,

the thing that You want me to do.

They made enough of an impression on me as a teenager; now that I can safely say I'm over my half century, they ring even more true. I've had the odd few health blips these last few years, and, although thankfully nothing sinister has made an appearance, each 'all clear,' (or rather - all clear as far as we can tell),  doesn't half jerk me out of my lethargy and make me assess my priorities. As I've been working these out in my rule of life, for instance, I'm realising that a) Worrying overmuch about others' (perceived) opinions of me is such a waste of precious time and  energy, and b)  The trickier choices aren't necessarily between 'good,' and 'bad.' In a  part of the world where many of us are blessed with a comfortable lifestyle , it's more often between a number of good things.

Discerning which of these God wants us to do - that's the rub...