No! I shout from two rooms away
Just before the laundry towel is in shreds.
No, not that! I shudder,
tugging paws, teeth and body from velour pillow
now christened where some have laid their heads.
The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get.
That phrase, from a poster on my high school bedroom wall, is haunting me today. Not because time has passed, but because it hasn’t seemed to. It’s even more true today than it was back then, and it has me wondering whether I am making any headway.
Speed breeds errors. Which mean do-overs. Which take time. Which I have to take from something else I need to be doing. Which is on my mind as I rush to do again what I rushed through the first time.
Does this bother anyone else?
Slow down and get it right the first time beats like a drum in my daily doing. But slow doesn’t do it. Slow falls behind. Slow blows your doors off as they pass on the left and on the right. Slow, but sure, wins the race is for tortoises, not for today.
Somehow the quality of my living has to match the demands of the daily, but without do-overs. I don’t have any right to insist the other slow down so I can catch up. We all have the same twenty four hours to do the will of the One who sent us. I just need to get it righter, so I don’t get behinder. As the rush of wind circles back to pick up what it dropped, I will catch up.
What if my new poster is…
If God is in the race then God is in the pace.
How would Jesus run? I’m thinking He’d be a little bit like American Pharoah – but without the typo.
- He’d be cool and collected in the starting blocks.
- He wouldn’t burst into the lead right from the start.
- He’d vary his racing strategy to suit the competitors.
- He would trust His preparation and apply it through each turn and straight-away.
- He’d always have a finishing kick.
- He’d compete at all distances and
- win every race.
My preparation is on-going even as I am running this race. I needn’t concern myself with trouncing the other competitors, but I do need to tap all the energy stores, exert myself responsibly and when the time is right, count on my finishing kick.
This race has already been won, folks. There’s no hurry.
Remember the relief when they introduced the correction cartridge? Erasing a mistake was as simple as typing over the letters in white. Only we knew what it used to say.
Now we type at will, deleting as we please. No white out. No correction cartridge. Only our screens know our errors, but they have nearly inexhaustible memory.
It’s so hard to believe that One who sees it all, knows it all and remembers it all, chooses not to.
Imagine starting each new day as if it were a clean sheet of paper, scrolled into our typewriter. That everything we wrote was new. Never before written.