NaBloPoMo 17: Time

An oft-read piece from when I was young, and a bit of wisdom I needed today…by Michael Quoist.

I went out, Lord.
People were coming and going,
Walking and running.
Everything was rushing:
      cars, trucks, the street, the whole town.
People were rushing not to waste time.
They were rushing after time,
      to catch up with time,
      to gain time.
Goodbye, excuse me, I haven’t time.
I’ll come back, I can’t wait, I haven’t time.
I must end this letter…I haven’t time.
I can’t accept having no time.
I can’t think, I can’t read,
      I’m swamped, I haven’t the time.
I’d like to pray, but…
      I haven’t time.

You understand, Lord,
      they simply haven’t the time.
The child is playing,
      there is no time right now. Later on.
The schoolchild has homework to do,
      there is no time… Later on…
The student has courses and so much work…
      Later on…
The young man is at his sports,
      he hasn’t time… Later on…
The young married couple has a new house;
      they have to fix it up.
      They haven’t time… Later on…
The grandparents have their grandchildren.
      They haven’t time… Later on…
They are sick and have their treatments,
      they haven’t time… Later on…
They are dying, they have no… Too late!
      They have no more time!

And so all people run after time, Lord.
They pass through life
      running, hurried, jostled, overburdened, frantic,
      and they never get there.
They haven’t the time.

In spite of all their efforts
      they’re still short of time,
      of a great deal of time.
Lord, you must have made a mistake in your calculations.
      There is a big mistake somewhere.
The hours are too short.
The days are too short.
Our lives are too short.

You who are beyond time, Lord,
      you smile to see us fighting it.
And you know what you are doing.
You make no mistakes in your distribution
      of time to us, Lord.
You give each one time to do what you want us to do.

But we must not lose time,
      waste time, kill time,
For time is a gift that you give us,
      but a perishable gift,
      a gift that does not keep.

Lord, I have time, I have plenty of time,
      all the time that you give me,
      the years of my life,
      the days of my years,
      the hours of my days.
They are all mine.
Mine to fill, quietly, calmly,
      but to fill completely up to the brim,
To offer them to you,
      that of their insipid water
You may make rich wine such as
      you made once in Galilee.

I am not asking you tonight, Lord,
      for the time to do this and then that,
But for your grace to do conscientiously,
      in the time that you give me,
      what you want me to do.

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