A day is all we ever got.
I was reminded of this simple truth as I was watching, of all things, the movie In Time starring Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried. (Great premise, decently executed.) Yet, it felt like it touched a part of me that’s felt more real during this season of life.
A day is all I ever got.
What I mean is, my mind can get ahead of me. I've long wrestled with irrational fear, the sense of uncertainty about my life and the future. Being in a pandemic plus having a child has only heightened this fear.
I find myself running through wild scenarios and unlikely events that won't pass 99% of the time. What’s going to happen to our world? Our family? What if I’m gone tomorrow?
It stems from a root of control. Basically, I worry because I can’t control the outcomes, and I guess I don’t trust God enough to come through.
I was forced to confront these negative contents of my soul as I’ve shuffled through the happenings of life.
Just this past year I became a father, left a job of 5 years, stepped down as a church college counselor, officiated a friend’s wedding—then an uncle’s funeral 3 weeks later, and went on a personal retreat.
It was some of the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Throughout this time, I’ve had to step away from various roles and responsibilities. I withdrew myself from social events. I had to work through some stuff with a counselor.
I felt like Achilles retreating to his tent in the midst of battle.
But God knew I needed to do some inner soul work. I needed space to ponder the meaning of my life, who I needed to become and how I’m going to make an impact in the next chapter of my journey.
This stuff happens only when you’re able to cut out the noise and listen to what’s going on within. And sometimes God will allow circumstances to force you to do the inner work you would otherwise ignore.
As it turns out, if you’re willing to embrace the darkness, much can happen in a season of disorientation. I'm learning to not let my fear drive and to trust God more in the daily rhythms of life. I’m finding a freedom in relinquishing control of tomorrow.
After all, a day is all we ever got.
I’m still not out of the woods just yet, but I’ve already gained much on this path of darkness. (More on that, perhaps, in another post.) I feel a new dawn emerging.
I suppose the only fitting end to this post would be a quote from Mother Teresa:
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.