Every year I wonder where the year went. Every year, the time goes by faster. I figure by the time I'm ready to go home (to heaven), there will be approximately three or four seconds between New Year's Day and Christmas.
It doesn't make sense. When I was a kid, I counted the days, hours, minutes, and seconds left until we could open our gifts. Now I panic because I'm afraid the gifts won't get there in time because, once again, the clock has galloped away at a much quicker rate than any horse ever ran.
However! Time slows down between Christmas and the New Year.
I wonder if that's what it's like when we're dying. Christ might come once again and spend time with me, slowing my life to a livable pace, and lead me to a new place, a place without hurrying and deadlines.
The thought of death does not frighten me. I look forward to it in so many ways, but still I hope it will not happen tomorrow. There is so much to get done, you see.
I have this novel to finish. There are friends' novels I'd like to read and brag about. My son and his wife have a child on the way that I want to see and hold. I'd like to stick around with my husband until he is gone on. There are places and things I haven't seen. And I need to revise my trust.
And yet--when He calls me I will go willingly. There will always be unfinished business. Another baby will always be coming in the future. Stories will be written by others. God will be around to watch over my loved ones. The trust, though--I should get to work on that. There's no guarantee there will be a tomorrow.
What about you? When will you be ready to go? Do you know where you're going when you go? I do know, which is probably why death holds no terror. I hope you'll be there, too.