I was going to give him a Christmas card—but he died.
Eight years our neighbor, but he died three days before Christmas and his card sits on the shelf behind me.
Eight years our neighbor and I never really got to know him. And now I have a leftover Christmas card.
For the eight years he lived next to us I attempted to befriend him. I gave him a ticket for our church’s Christmas bouquet. I invited him to our church, and to special events. I bought treats and food for his dog. When he lost his car, I offered trips to the store. For eight years he rebuffed offers of help and friendship, and now his leftover Christmas card sits on the shelf behind me.
His death came as a shock. I thought I would have more time to cultivate friendship with our next door neighbor. I thought I would have more time to make a difference in his life.
Sometimes—there is no more time. Sometimes time runs out.
The leftover Christmas card reminds me to walk in the Biblical truth of Ephesians 5:15, “See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.”
“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12.
Don’t leave any leftover Christmas cards sitting on your shelf.
When can be a dangerous word. I will start eating less when… I will start exercising more when… I will get that done when…
As a child, “when” was scary. When my father was in a bad mood he donned a white glove and gave the deteriorating antebellum house which was more than a hundred years old and falling apart around us from age and neglect (bees lived in the walls upstairs and the roof was missing from one of the downstairs rooms) the “white glove test.” He would run the tips of his fingers over the top of the mantel where none of us could reach except for him and then blast all of us—including my petite, overworked mother—for our slovenly housekeeping.
Then he employed a deplorable method of punishment for us children who ranged in age from teenage me down to about four. He ordered us into a straight line and made us stand on that line until one of us would confess to whatever other infractions he imagined we had committed. Being the oldest and strongest, I was fairly immune to the belting that targeted the first child to become too tired to stand any longer.
The adult me looks back on those marathons of abuse and deplores my apathy. I wish had been stronger and possessed more integrity; that I had stood in the gap for my younger siblings and had taken the punishment for them or defended them from the injustice. Unfortunately, I did neither. Instead, I was relieved to have escaped the belt welts…this time. It was a short-lived relief. “When” came again and again.
“When” still challenges me. Sometimes it frustrates me. When spring comes again—but it’s so slow. When it’s summer—but it never is summer here in Scotland. When it warms up—which it doesn’t here in Scotland. But “when” no longer frightens me, because I know God now and I trust Him as the good and kind Heavenly Father He is; a Father who does not abuse and whose timing is always perfect.
“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven; a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted…a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has put eternity in their hearts.” Ecclesiastes, Chapter Three.
While I am alive, God is with me. He lives in my heart. When I die, I will be with God. That takes the danger and fear out of the word “when.”
At 4 p.m. on Saturday, I decided to order a delivery for dinner—to save time. My time cooking and cleaning up afterwards.
It was easy to rationalize the need to save time; I had just finished my newest book and deserved a small celebration. Finishing the book took a massive effort and push since I am the solitary care-giver for my husband who is terminally ill and can no longer walk. And since finishing the book, I had given the house a good clean because Alan’s brother was coming to spend a week with us and a childhood friend of theirs was also dropping in for a visit.
I picked up my brother-in-law from the ferry at 4 p.m., and suggested collecting fish and chips on the way home…to save time.
Ian didn’t want fish and chips, so once we got home, we scanned the menu of an Indian restaurant and wrote down three orders. I even included an extra one for our collie, Savannah. Then I began calling to place the order. No one answered the phone. It went straight to a recording again and again. So, to save time, I got into the car and drove back into town to place the order in person. The restaurant was closed. It was now approaching six o’clock.
Still on a mission to save time, it was back home to find the menu for the Chinese restaurant and search it. Since it was Saturday, all the restaurants were busy, but my call finally went through and I placed the orders.
By 7:20 p.m., I had to admit my failure to save time. We still hadn’t eaten. We were still waiting for the order. The food finally came and we fell on it like a pack of hungry wolves. To be fair, we did remember to pray first.
The problem with eating so late was that I was late walking Savannah and by the time I got out with her—the midges were out. And hungry. I soon had a circle of stings and itches circling my head from under the brim of my woolly hat to under my hair at the base of my skull.
To save time, I had wasted three hours. Tomorrow…I will cook.
“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1
For weeks every time I took our collie Savannah on a walk we passed a beautiful vine dressed with bright red leaves hanging over a wooden fence. Every time we passed it I thought, “That’s lovely. I need to take a picture.” Then I kept walking because…it was raining…or the camera was in the other coat…or I was in a time crunch.
Today I passed that once glorious vine—and the leaves were gone. Only one leaf remained on the twisty branches, only one leaf flaunted its bright color and beauty against the fence. I was too late.
There was a couple in one of my husband’s parishes. The wife spent the days of their marriage flogging her husband. If he did dishes—she did them over because he didn’t do a good enough job. If he vacuumed the floor—she did it over because he missed spots. They lived in one of the best houses in the village and had all the furnishings and conveniences that anyone could want. He even rode the bus to work so she would have the car during the day. Still she complained: he didn’t spend enough time with the children when they were young; he didn’t help her enough around the house; he wasn’t romantic…he was a total failure as a husband. She should have married a classmate who had become a physician.
Sadly, she was a Christian. But since she didn’t apply Biblical wisdom to her marriage, she remained miserable and transferred that misery to her husband. One day, however, she got her Bible out and read it deeply. She turned to Proverbs because she thought Proverbs would be easy to understand. One verse lacerated her heart: “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” She thought about how she had snapped at her husband that morning for spilling toast crumbs on the tablecloth and hanging up the towel in the bathroom crookedly. She decided to change.
She baked his favorite cake—a Victorian sponge—and prepared his favorite meal—mince and tatties. She donned her best clothes and prepared to meet him at the bus stop close to their house. She hurried to the stop. He got off the bus…staggered…and fell across the curb dead. He had suffered a heart attack.
As a writer, I would want to change this ending. I would want the wife’s sudden turn to sweetness to last and bring sunshine and roses into the last and best years of their marriage. I would want forgiveness, healing and growth. But…this is a true story. It was too late for a happy ending.
Ecclesiastes 3 says, “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted…a time to laugh; a time to mourn…
Yes, indeed. There is a time and a season. But there is also a time when it is too late.
So love your family and your pets today and everyday and never let them doubt how much they mean to you and how much you appreciate them. When that last leaf falls from the vine…it is too late.
Stephanie Parker McKean 