Journal of Sacred Work

[Since this entry was posted late on Monday, it will cover Tuesday as well]

Time travels at the same speed, but our experience of it never does. – Erie Chapman

   Why are some moments in our lives, insignificant at the time, etched in our memories? On one other occasion, I’ve written about one such encounter with the clock that I had during my high school years. That experience bounded back into my life on Sunday with one phone call. 
   The original experience happened in 1960 in Adrian, Michigan. Tom Handwork, a teammate, and I were sitting in the stands in a basketball arena watching a freshman game before we (juniors at the time) went into the locker room to suit up for the varsity game. There was nothing special about that moment except for one thing…   

   It was a Wednesday night. Tom and I were both looking forward to a dance that would happen on Saturday. We both had nice dates lined up. We were wishing the time would pass quickly to Saturday when we’d be in the middle of a party.
   "Tom," I said, "I’m going to snap my fingers, and the moment I do it will be Saturday night." He gave me that kind of look one gives to people who come up with crazy ideas. So I snapped my fingers.
   "It’s still Wednesday," he dead-panned back to me.
   That Saturday night, as we danced by each other with our dates, I caught Tom’s eye and snapped my fingers. "See," I said, "it’s Saturday night."
   Tom (he’s at far right in the photo, I’m at far left) shrugged his shoulders. My guess is that he apologized to his date for his crazy friend. But the moment buried itself in my soul. Time is just a snap of fingers, I thought to myself. And I’ve used this thought many times while working my way through a difficult set of moments.
   A few people I’ve shared the story with pick up on the way this incident is a commentary on time itself. Most people give me the Tom Handwork look. But time is the only thing we have. And yet we don’t "have it." We simply experience it.
    At our twenty-five year high school reunion, I saw Tom  "Hey, snap of fingers!" I said to him. He gave me a blank look. I recounted the old story. "Oh right," he said. "Let’s get a drink."
    On Sunday afternoon, August 26, 2007, the phone rang. It was Tom. I haven’t heard from him in years. "I’m just calling to see if you can come up to Toledo next weekend for our reunion." he said. "I know it’s an odd year, our 46th, but a few of us are still getting together."
   Forty-seven years have passed since the snap-of-fingers moment. I didn’t mention the ancient incident to Tom (if the moment were an object, it might qualify as an antique.) Instead, we talked about his three boys and my two children and the grandchildren each of us have. And we talked about his law practice and my work. It was a terrific half-hour of shared memories between two old classmates. I even asked him if he’s considering retirement. From high school to retirement – all in a snap of fingers.
   Since time is all we have, it’s funny how often we try to make it speed up or slow down. I’m one of millions who dislikes the dentist’s office. I know I can snap my fingers and the appointment will be over. Instead, I’ve started trying to observe my own discomfort and impatience. It helps me to appreciate every moment of life I have, not just the comfortable ones.
   We can engage with our work life rather than wishing the day was over. Why yearn away our lives wishing it was quitting time, or the weekend, or that we were retired? Retirement age will come soon enough. In the meantime, there’s the chance to embrace all we will ever have – the present.

-Erie Chapman