I am naturally or at least culturally a person who rushes. I always think about how long something will take and usually if it can be done faster. I am a numbers person. I cannot think about plans for the day without a thought that includes the time to be spent on each thing and what remaining time I will have to fill or rest.
I’m three weeks in to a vastly different job and I already want to do a time study of my days.
I’m mourning the death of my husband and one of the first things I wanted to know was how long this mourning should last and when it would get worse and better. I hardly ever talk about this month being the hardest so far without mentioning that it fits the timeline I was told.
I don’t want to rush this season. I just want to know.
God knows. So he does not rush. Forty days spent sitting on a mountain was not a waste of time. He didn’t try to see if he could get it done in 39, so that Moses should get on to the next task of building the tabernacle and then move on to going to the Promise Land.
Months of extreme sadness without worrying that they will last forever or end too soon.
This morning will be the right length of time. This season will be right length of time.
I’m thinking about that demonstration people do when they talk about the importance of priorities. If you have a vase with different size rocks and you put the little pebbles in first , and then the bigger gravel and then bigger rocks, you won’t have space for the biggest rock. But if you put the biggest one in first, the smaller ones will all fit around it.
Priorities are important.
But knowing God knows is even more important, and following God through seasons is what matters most.
Church is a huge priority. But two days before Shah died, dinner out with us was most important. He has everyday to feast with God now. God knew that.
Shah’s plans to support us in the future were important. I kept wanted to set goals, in two years, in three years, by the time Zoya started school. It would have been better, and to some extend we did, just appreciate the season we were in, a season where Zoya got to sleep on her daddy’s chest everyday. A perfect season. The season we would have chosen had we known what the future held, had we known what God knew.
God doesn’t rush seasons. He knows the future. He doesn’t rush our time on earth. Many people in my position don’t know why everyone hopes to delay heaven so much. I now often wonder why I have what seems to be so many years left until we are reunited. But God knows and so God doesn’t rush. So I can rest in that. And appreciate this season with its joys and sorrows for as long as it lasts, until another seasons comes.