Tangible Time

My last semester in grad school, I was able to do an independent study with two of my good friends and a lady who we referred to as “the goddess of Autism.” She was an expert, to put it plainly, and knew more than we could wrap our minuscule minds around. She had researched, published, done therapy with, and invested in thousands upon thousands of children with Autism, and is now writing curriculum on how to start a preschool classroom to foster their language development. There is a lot of time and analysis that goes into this, because since children with Autism struggle to learn language and use it to communicate, you must make sure that the words that you introduce to them are both functional to use and simple to learn. My friends and I, therefore, spent weeks analyzing her words. I’m sure you’re yawning at the thought of this, but we were completely captivated. We loved counting, categorizing, and graphing the word types and numbers. It was gripping, and we were hooked. One day, while talking with Dr. Rollins about our analysis, we got to talking about words to begin and end an activity, which we noted as “time words.” Dr. Rollins told us that the time words were difficult to explain because time is arbitrary, as are words, and those words are our attempt to make time into something tangible, to place restrictions on it so that we could understand, explain and use it.

It’s literally taken me months to wrap my brain around this concept. This concept of time that so governs my life isn’t even something that I could put my index finger on, yet I feel the need to create boundaries to it. We live and die by planners, schedules, bedtimes and alarms to wake us up. We do everything in our power to know where it goes, and make sure it is going to the right things, places, people and events. I’ve been known to think of my day like a pie graph and try to a lot every hour to something. At the end of every month (it is February 26, technically 27 because it is the middle of the night), I think to myself, “Goodness gracious, where as the month gone? How is it almost over.” We seek to hold on as it slips away, yet wish for it to pass more swiftly. We want to control it. I yearn to control it.

I have learned that God and time have a fascinating relationship. They are similar in that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they both exist. I cannot see either of them, but I can see results of them both. I witness miracles, glory and the restoration of God; I witness time’s effect on people. I cannot control God, and I cannot control time. But luckily, He can control time and my life. Things run more smoothly when He controls them. He was intended to control both. And He does.

Throughout the past 6 months, but more specifically in 2011, God has continued to build my faith and reveal his sovereignty and flawless timing to me. I have felt like a Stretch Armstrong action figure at times, as he has no doubt stretched me, making me wonder (being completely transparent in this confession) if He did, in fact, know what He was doing. But he has arranged events, like a composer orchestrates the parts of each and every instrument of a symphony, into something breathtakingly beautiful. To remind me He was, and is, there and in control, He placed various events and people into my life, like a lovely flute trill or trombone fall in an orchestra, to remind me of his presence and care. During my most difficult and trying hours, His presence was so evident that it left me in awe, listening and wanting more. He lead me to realize that my attempts to make time, and more importantly His time, neat and packaged into a box, took away from it’s beauty, it’s perfection, and it’s inherent characteristics. And ultimately took away from His purpose and glory, which is really the point of it all.

He has taught me that His timing is perfect and control is unwavering. Even though I can’t always see it through the haze, that he is continually working (which is a subject for another blog). I find peace in that. Basking in His peace, anxiously awaiting His next move, His next stretch of my faith, and His next revelation of His divinity to me.