The Perfect Time

"To every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven..."

Solomon wrote these in Ecclesiastes. I first encountered these words as a little girl. I did not quite know what to make of the verse and dismissed it rather furtively. It was rightly so. It was not yet my time to understand what Solomon had written then but it was almost absolute that I someday will.

Before leaving for college, I read Ecclesiastes 3 again. In my sophomore year when I was deciding which major to take, I read it once more. When I was deciding whether to pursue my masters's degree, I pore through those lines. When my mother got sick, those words gave me comfort. This summer when I was yet in another of the most painful crossroads in my life, Ecclesiastes became my guiding light.

The years tame the tempestuous spirit, unruly emotions and the impulsive youth. This would be rather ironic, given the fact that as the years go by, speed seems to be the most significant for many. In my business classes, I was taught to keep waiting to a minimum because people want responses in an instant. Otherwise you lose them to other competitors. My programming classes placed much more emphasis on speed. Different codes may perform the same function but greater preference is given for codes which can deliver the result at a much faster rate. I remember when Anna and I were tasked to make a sales and inventory program using JAVA for our object-oriented programming class. Our codes were long and rambling and for the user to complete a sales invoice, he would have to be jolted by AT LEAST SEVEN pop-up windows!

Waiting is not pleasant, especially if it involves crucial events. The agony is unbearable. It becomes worse when the result is in stark contrast to what is expected or desired. Thus waiting becomes almost synonymous with worrying. More often than not, worrying is anything but healthy.

Attaching worrying to waiting does not make a pretty picture. As a matter of fact, it rids "waiting" of any romantic images that the word may invoke (just think of movies like "Somewhere in Time"...a digression but what was that about???). But knowing that everything moves according to a predefined schedule makes waiting part of a beautiful choreography. It's like looking at out at a sea of dancers in a dance floor while waiting for your turn to make your grand entrance and, as some dancer friends say, strut your stuff for the world to see. Every person moves in time with the music and though the movements and the steps may not always be the same for everybody, the harmony is evident and undeniable. I heard one of the best definitions of peace last Sunday. Peace is not the absence of conflict. Rather it is refusing to worry about things which are beyond your ability to control.

My Lola has yet been granted another opportunity to take her place on the dance floor. I feel relieved and thankful for that. Perhaps there are more dances that she has to learn and more dancers she needs to meet. I do not know when the time will come for her curtsy but I am sure that today is not that day. Eventually when she needs to make her final bow, I admit it will be laced with sadness for many, including me, but one thing is sure: IT WILL BE GRAND.

"...a time to be born...a time to die...a time to weep...a time to laugh...a time to mourn... a time to dance."