Struggle to Survive in Time

 

So I guess it is time to start looking for my new home.   I have been staying at my mom’s home and it has brought back many happy memories.

But, my mom is going to sell her house, our home for 45 years.

It is a little sad, or even a lot sad.  It’s like moving twice.

To look on the brighter side, it is better to do this while she is still here.  Going through all these memories after she has gone to that next life beyond the veil would be extremely sad.

And it passes so quickly. Time that is.

The space-time continuum fascinates me.  I cannot quite get my arms around it.  It is linear, a beginning, and a middle, and an end.  We run our lives by it, and plan our calendars by it.

Time is such a master of this world, that we have no control over its passage is reality.  We cannot change time, slow it, speed it, or travel through it.  We are accountable for what we do within it.

That God sees all time at one time is hard to fathom.

It must be like looking at a river all at once, the upstream, the middle, and the downstream.  If you stand back far enough you can see it all at one time.  But you can only stand in it at one place and travel up (or down–a little time travel in this scenario). I don’t quite see it.

I am looking out the window of my childhood home–my dog waiting for me to hike the mountain now that the rain has stopped.  The cement and brick patio framed with oaks and ivy and potted plants that my mom has carefully cultivated through the years,  the rock and cement walkways she has artistically placed there.  It used to be a wooden deck, but flooding of the little stream that runs through this homeland has been known to overflow, changing the backyard from its original landscape, the deck replaced with its current patio.

I find it easier to think about Abraham, who had to often leave his home, leaving behind the wells he had dug, the cultivating he had done to improve the place.  It is a struggle for survival.  Famine and climate, or inhospitable company made our ancestors move on to survive.

My mom is going to move on, to survive.  She needs money to survive, to live on.  How telestial is that?  I just wish she could stay in her home and have enough money to live year after year.  If those who have given so much  and served others so well were blessed monetarily, she would be one of the wealthiest of women. She is the mother Teresa to our family and many others.

She will go to live at my sister’s house in the  (currently) cold snowy canyon of Springville.  My sister and her husband have been called as mission president in Alabama for three years.  They must move out for awhile.  My mom will live in her house.  My step dad too, who is 88.  My mom is almost 79.  Wow, Time gone by too fast.  It will be nice in the summer, too cold in the winter, and a huge change.  But the home is beautiful, with trees and a stream.

Similar. Without the memories.

What different rivers we must stand in.

I guess it is better to look at this move like an exciting adventure, a chance to sort through the things of 45 years of life, and enjoy the memories.  But somehow, time makes it all a little sad.  I hope that in another life we can enjoy it all, no timeline involved, no past present, future.  A feast of life that does not have a beginning or an end.  Could that be eternal life?

I often think how fun it would be, maybe will be, in another life, the life here after, to all be the same age.  My mom, my daughter and I the same age.  My sons, and husband all the same, young 21 years of age–that would be something for our kids to see us at our prime.

I am constrained by this world as I see it and live it, and  experience all the joys and sadness that makes us who we are.

It’s a Timeline.

As we live in time.

And hope for a life with no time.

With family.

Forever.