A time for everything
I scrutinize the hours, hardening my “musts” into iron “wills”; there is no room for seconds; I must survive on firsts successful and accomplished. I have no other option, if there is to be a time for everything I must complete.
And just as I take my time to task, I’m confronted by the very last interdicting interruption I could endure: someone brings their needs to me.
Exasperating, I aspirate in agitation, the sigh of “why must you ask, my plate is filled with such a rate that I can barely compensate; my tasks are late enough without your bother?”
But of course, I know my Father, and I know what He would say, and so I stuff it down and tell them “yes”, and inwardly slide my abacus in the calculus of how quickly I can get out from this mess and attend once more my mathesis of tasks to whisk through before my time is spent.
And then
in shattering glimmering splintering shards my schedule so neatly arranged bursts; a brilliant blaze scattered points no longer linear
and as I take mandated rest unable to achieve I see that the tasks were not the priceless jewels I once believed
Instead, I long to share a plate with another, who shares their need; and I realize I was given the right time for every thing indeed.