It is Time . . .

This morning, as I look out my kitchen window, the sun is finally shining again, but we have had too many days of bleakness, grayness, sleet and slush this April. “Why snow? Why now? You have the wrong season! This is not the time!” I mutter to myself.

My mood matches the weather. Sadness washes over me at times as I grieve the loss of my youngest brother who passed away unexpectedly at the beginning of April. The biblical account of Mary and Martha who lost their brother Lazarus takes on new meaning. Martha asks Jesus, “Where were you when my brother died? If you had been here my brother would not have died!” (John 11).

I see the promise of new life all around me in spite of this dismal spring weather. The ornamental plum tree already has buds; tulips and daffodils are coming to life; a pansy is almost blooming! The robins are building nests in their accustomed place under our deck.
I go for a walk around the lake close to our house and stop at the pussy-willow tree where I often reminisce about my mother. My heart leaps when I see it full of buds!

Returning home, I think about my life. In a second, in the blink of an eye, it can all be gone. I look around my house, at the things I value and treasure. Who will know what they meant to me and why?

I am not a collector or hoarder of things. Our years of travelling to Congo and back made that impossible (except for books and diaries that I can’t seem to part with).
For some reason, however, I have kept beautiful boxes given to me over time. I display them on a shelf above our bed and they contain knickknacks and small items of jewellery -- nothing of value except sentimentally. When grandchildren come for longer visits, they love to look at them. The thought came to me that maybe I should give each of the grandchildren one of these boxes and tell them how I got them and why I treasure them. There are nine boxes and I have eight grandchildren. “Which one will not be chosen?” I wonder.

Granddaughter Kathryn, now 13, happens to come first. When I tell her she can pick one to keep, she looks at them all very carefully. She likes the little homemade box my sister gave me years ago which has a picture on the lid of Kathryn's mom and aunt peering into a window when they were two and four. She says it smells “old.” (Later, when I open it, I see that some mold has appeared in it and it needs a cleaning.)

Not yet understanding the value of antiques, Kathryn decides instead to claim the biggest one that is a real jewellery box (with a fancy mirror, a pull-out drawer and a red velvet tray). It has a gold turtle for a clasp.
I tell her that it comes from Korea and was given to me by one of my students. Wise for her years, she asks me to write down the story of the box and put it inside. One of the items stored in it is the first watch I bought with my babysitting money when I was 15. It lasted a very long time! When I look at it, I still feel the pride of ownership it gave me. Of course, I had no idea how fleeting time really is, since my whole life stretched before me.

I wonder what life on earth will be like when I am no longer here. Watches will, no doubt, be redundant. [There is an app for that !]

I do know that spring will come and I will enjoy as much of it as I possibly can!