My beloved husband informed me this morning that this year marks the 20th anniverary of the Nirvana phenomenon. This led to a brief discussion about which album was more significant, Pearl Jam's Ten or Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, a conversation I'm sure most households have had, who had their musical tastes shaped in the 90's, unless you dwell on topics of more highbrow significance, like the weather or politics or Jennifer Aniston. I don't particularly CARE that it's the 20th anniversary of this landmark album (I'm on the Pearl Jam side, by the way) but it has been one of many anniversaries that have hit me recently exhibiting the slipslide sands-through-the-fingers quality of time. 15th wedding anniversary. 10th anniversary of 9/11. 20th highschool reunion. Ten-years-as-a-mom-iversary (also known as my eldest's upcoming birthday).
These snapshots of time, like photos in an album, seem familiar, but so distant from today's reality. I think of who I was 10, 15, 20 years ago. How terrified I was of babies. My plans to homeschool our future offspring. My dreams of being an astronomer or marine biologist. My quest for acceptance. How little I knew myself.
I know it's not an original thought that time flies, that people change, that worries and fears become irrelevant through the passage of time. And yet, it always seems to be a fresh perspective and insight for me as I consider that truth for the future me, the 10, 15, 20-year-older me. The debts we struggle to pay off now, will be paid off then, and though I'd like to think otherwise,will most likely be replaced with new ones. The children I invest so heavily in, to teach and train and (moment of truth) attempt to control, will be out of the house, making their own futures and mistakes, and possibly populating our lives with new little ones. The aches and pains I wake with today will seem unimpressive and not worth mentioning. The special needs puppy who requires specially prepared meals and an extra twenty minutes on walks for sniffing time, will age and break my heart.
My grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday two days ago, unconscious in a hospital bed, hospice supported, slowly leaving this world behind. The next day, her body stopped fighting that battle, and my hope is that her eyes opened to see the Lord Jesus waiting for her in Heaven with her husband of 61 years by His side. She was 19 when she had gotten married, 20 when she gave birth to her first child. I can not imagine the perspective that those years brought her. I wish I had asked her about it. What were her worries in her youth, and what became of them. What were her dreams in her 20s, and did they ever get realized, and in the end, were they the dreams she expected. The turns in her life she did not expect, or perhaps even dreaded, and where they took her.
I am so thankful for time, for the slow unfolding of self and purpose, the knitting together of persons from different paths and the opportunity to grow in wisdom and character. And I am thankful for the One who stands outside of time, my God my Rock, who never changes. I sometimes imagine, as I whine and "Are we there yet?" my way through another struggle, the glint in His eye as He would whisper to me knowingly, "My purposes shall always stand. I will complete the good work I've started in you, and neither life nor death can separate you from My love."
So, as I move on to newer and bigger and better anniversaries, and consider the "where I've been"s of yesteryear, I content myself to love on all babies, appreciate and serve all teachers of my children, adore the exploration of sea and sky through the eyes of my kids, be sensitive to those who need acceptance and give it unabashedly, and discover each day God's design and purpose for me.
But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. 2 Peter 3:8
