Time is a Relative Thing

Okay, so I am notoriously late wherever I go. I still remember the day several years ago when I actually dorve up to the church "on time" for a youth event I was sponsoring. My best friend and her husband were the youth pastors at the time and she had told me the time that we were leaving. As I pulled into the parking lot and around the building, I was surprised to see that none of the young people had arrived yet. After questioning my friend, she informed me that we were not leaving until 30 minutes later.
"BEK!! WHEN did I become one of those people?!?!" I cried!
"What people," she asked.
"Those people you tell we are leaving 30 minutes earlier than we actually are so they will be there on time!"
Go ahead. Laugh. She and I still laugh about that day. I am so pathologically late that Chad felt the need to make a statement on the 5th of this month. We were pulling out of the driveway in completely enough time to arrive ON TIME to a funeral we were attending. Let it be placed upon the record that I did not make us late. We were on time...even a couple of minutes early. Chad, however, is one of those people who believes that if you are not 15 minutes early, you are late.
So, back to the driveway...he says to me, "Honey, I've just decided something."
"Yes, dear..."
"Well, if you go before I do, I have plans for your funeral."
"Okay...?"
"We will start the funeral on time, but ten minutes into it, we are going to stop everything and wheel you into the sanctuary and place you in front of everyone, because, honey, you will be late to your own funeral!"
I was not amused. Okay, so I was mildly amused, BUT WE WEREN'T LATE TO THE FUNERAL!! Granted, it was in a gymnasium and we were paraded in front of EVERYONE and seated on the bleachers to the side and in front of the family. I was embarassed, but seriously, we were there on time...and I looked good so it wasn't like the family had to look at a troll or anything. I suppose I should have gotten there a half an hour earlier. Point taken.
But, that is not even the main point of this bit of rambling. Yesterday, my oldest son, Alex, was scheduled to play in the Stephens County Basketball Tournament in Marlow. That is about a 25 minute drive from my front door. I dropped Jonathan and Christopher off at work at 3:45, exactly one hour and 15 munutes before I intended to arrive at the gym. I took my time, returned the movies, stopped for gas, got a soda and still arrived ten minutes early. I was feelin' good about myself. I was finally going to see a tip off! I grabbed my book and headed for the door, paid my entry fee and headed for the bathroom...I had been on the road longer than 15 minutes and my bladder knew it. As I walked passed the entryway to the court, I noticed several girls were shooting baskets...halftime of the previous game, I assumed. As I exited the restroom a couple of minutes later I heard the announcer say with gusto, "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Stephens County Tournament," and that's when realization slapped me down, pointed, and laughed at me. Alex's game was NOT starting in a few minutes. I hurriedly sought out a bracket only to realize I had looked at the wrong one at home. I had looked at the girls bracket, and clearly, Alexandre is not a girl. Upon further scrutiny, I found that his game was not scheduled until 9:00 that evening! NINE O'CLOCK!! I couldn't even play it off like I'd just wanted to get there early to support our girls team. Our girls weren't even playing in the game that was being sung in by some girl belting out the National Anthem a few yards from where I stood. That game wasn't even until 7:40. I WAS FOUR HOURS EARLY!! I tried to retreat, but was met with a sign on the door that read, "If you leave the gym, you will have to pay to return." Following an exasperated sigh, I had to tell the gate worker what I had done, confess my stupidity, and beg for leniency. She attempted to stifle a giggle and handed me two things: a ticket to return to the later game and a copy of the bracket...exactly like the one I had looked at earlier in the day to determine my timeline for attending the game would be! There is nothing like having to tell someone at a rival school what an idiot you are! As I drove out of the parking lot to drive the 20 miles home, I tried to call Chad and tell him I was early to the game, but when I couldn't reach him, dialed my best friend's number. I didn't even tell her who I was I simply said, "I just thought you might like to know that your best friend is an idiot!" I managed to make it back to Comanche relatively unscathed. I casually made my way to buy a newspaper, picked up the boys from work, drove home, waited for Chad to get home so I could regale the story yet again, listend to him laugh, ate a salad for dinner, and proceeded to tend to farmville on the computer. Then Chad said to me while attempting to disguise his amusement, "Ummm, Honey, have you noticed the time? You're going to be late if you don't leave pretty soon." In my head I screamed, "I DON'T CARE," and stuck my tongue out at him. Outwardly, I ignored him, fertilized three more friend's crops on Farmville, and then rose to leave. I listened to the girls game on the way over to Marlow...for the second time. When the clock struck 9:00, I was three blocks from the gymnasium and the radio announcer said there was a minute and a half of play left in the girls game. I walked in late. Completely unashamed. Feeling somewhat entitled to the belated entrance. I was able to find a seat BEFORE Alex's game began. I did see a tip off...somehow, seeing it did not improve my enjoyment of the game.

So, this morning I was thinking about it all, and it occurred to me that GOD is never late. He doesn't rush to necessarily fix things fifteen minutes early. He is ALWAYS right on time. I'm so thankful for that. If the tip off of an extremely difficult battle occurred without God right there on the sideline cheering me on I would be without hope. I suppose I do need to make a greater effort to be on time more frequently. It would probably eliminate a great deal of stress in my life. The fact of the matter is, though, I am currently of the mind that if I am indeed running ahead of schedule at any given point in time, I have obviously missed a step somewhere along the way. Something must be off kelter in the universe. I may arrive three towns away, four hours early, or possibly on the wrong day. I'm just so thankful God has his head screwed on straight and His timing is always perfect. I also think it may be possible that he created me to provide humor for him. Think about it. It does make sense! :o)

Money from a Motor Mouth

Okay, so there I was, lying in bed somewhere blissfully between asleep and awake, contemplating the amazing aspects of life when the most horrible thought EVER came to mind. What if they put a tax on TALKING?!? I would be completely doomed if such legislation were ever put into place. Seriously, it’s not a major stretch. Crazier things have happened. Until just this year, government had even managed to tax a person for venturing to die! I can just picture it. Me, standing at the pearly gates about to cross the threshold into eternal perfection when I stop and say, “Hey, God, so I’m totally psyched about worshipping at your feet for the next few millennia, but could you please excuse me for a moment while I run down to the bank and write a quick check to Uncle Sam?” The absurdity of that scene was just too much! So, you can imagine how horrified I was at the concept of a talking tax. Just like dying, everyone does it, so they could make a mint off of ramblers such as myself. They could call it the Money from Motor Mouths Law.
I’ve always been a talker. Pretty much every report card I ever received as a child read as follows: “Grade: A Comment: Veronica talks too much.” I remember my mother telling me on more than one occasion when I was younger, “Veronica, let people wonder what you are thinking. You don’t always have to say what’s on your mind.” I disagreed. What can I say? I love to talk. I talk to myself when I’m alone. I’ve been known to occasionally answer myself. My dog, Joey, is a terrific listener. Other drivers could benefit from my commentary. My husband, Chad, says I even talk in my sleep. If the Money from Motor Mouths Law were to go into effect, I would be BA-ROKE! I’d be broker than broke. My family would be paying back taxes for years following my death. I’m just a woman who speaks her mind! I think parmesan cheese tastes like the smell of feet, taxing dead people is ludicrous, and sagging jeans just look ridiculous…I don’t care to see your Superman boxer briefs thank you very much. I also think teachers should be paid more than professional football players, we should make an effort to know the names of the people in our lives who clean up after us, and ultimately, that I have the greatest husband and kids in the world! Yes, people, there are a lot of random thoughts rattling around in this head of mine, and I’m pretty sure at some point in my life I have spoken every one of them! I’m just so thankful to live in a country where that is legal and completely FREE to do so!
After the initial wave of horror following the thought of a talk-tax, I really began to think of what could follow such legislation. The hubster texted me on his way to work this morning, “You need to read K-LOVE’s encouraging word of the day.” So, I hurried to my e-mail inbox and it read, “Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands... I Thessalonians 4:11, NLT.” I giggled as the realization of its implication sank in. I responded with, “How fitting for my talking tax concept,” and he came back with, ”I know, right!?” That man! Whatever will I do with him? I suppose someone has to keep me in line!
You know, I assume the state of our world would be very different if we had to pay every time we opened our mouths to speak. In essence, we really do pay, if not with currency, with consequence. Countless times throughout my life I have thought immediately following something I said, “Man! I wish I hadn’t said that.” I’ve had to apologize many times. I’ve even been smacked across the face for allowing myself to speak what was on my mind, and why? Simply because I didn’t gage the affect of what I was going to say before I spoke the words, or didn’t care. Either way, things would have turned out better for me if I’d chosen to take the advice of my mother and allowed them to wonder what I was thinking rather than offering them the benefit of knowing.
You see, words are very powerful. Once they are out, there is no reeling them back in. They cannot be erased like they can be when written. We can’t call, “Do over!” Once spoken, words are out there, crashing thru whatever situation that may be occurring. One can bolster or destroy a person with words alone. I would like to think we would further consider the implications of our comments before we speak should we be taxed for the privilege, but most likely we would all merely adjust our budgets to accommodate the new mandate. It’s sad, really, to think that we would rather pay than change, because what an opportunity we would have if we seriously chose to censor our speech. I hope I would speak more life into my family and friends, infuse them with encouragement and with love. I should hope to hear less criticizing, argument, and insult…a decrease in gossip, lies, and hate. But why wait until a tax is issued? Why not start today? If we simply decide to use the power of words to uplift one another, a change in our world can happen out of desire and not out of necessity. A kind word can soften an angry neighbor. A compliment could help the confidence of co-worker. A heartfelt “I still love you” could literally save a marriage on its way downhill. All too often, we use words to cut and disarm others. If we consciously choose to use those powerful little nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs to benefit others, how much better would our world become? You never know when something you say may completely turn a situation around for someone, improving their day altogether. We simply have to choose to use our words for good rather than hurt.
Let’s do it! Let’s take that adventure together, you and I. Let’s challenge each other to use the things we say to improve someone else’s day, to improve ourselves. Who knows? It may be contagious!