How fast the shades of sum­mer have faded

Record Observer - - Religion -

Am I get­ting old or his time pass­ing faster than it used to? It seems I just set­tle down to do some­thing and be­fore I know it, it is over.

Back in “the day,” a minute had 60 sec­onds. An hour had 60 min­utes. A day had 24 hours. Oh, for those good old days.

I am not ex­actly sure how many sec­onds a minute has or how many min­utes an hour has be­cause he goes by so fast I can­not keep track. Tech­nol­ogy has taken over and I for one ob­ject.

For ex­am­ple, I like look­ing at my wrist­watch and see­ing the sec­ond hand slowly tick around the dial. Now, we have cell phones with a dig­i­tal clock. Un­like these dig­i­tal clocks, all they tell me is what time it is right now. I like to look at a wrist­watch and get a whole view of time: past, present and fu­ture.

I know that a week does not have seven days any­more.

I set out on Mon­day with high hopes of get­ting some­thing ac­com­plished dur­ing the week and by the time I clear my throat, it is Fri­day af­ter­noon. Where did all that time go?

Years ago, the Bea­tles had a song called “Eight Days a Week.” Nowa­days it is more like three days a week: yes­ter­day, to­day and to­mor­row!

To­day is to­mor­row’s yes­ter­day and I am not ex­actly sure how to keep up any­more. By the time I get to to­mor­row, I for­got what I was sup­posed to do to­day. Then, when I get to to­day, I can­not re­mem­ber what I did yes­ter­day.

I used to plan a whole week of ac­tiv­ity, now that lux­ury is yes­ter­day’s news, or is it to­mor­row’s head­lines?

I like sum­mer, which may ex­plain why it goes so fast. Maybe I should take a chap­ter from Mur­phy’s Law and say I do not like sum­mer, then it would drag by a with­out end in sight.

In­ter­est­ingly, the thing I like to do the most goes by so quickly, that which I hate do­ing drags on for cen­turies. Which has me think­ing maybe I should not voice what I like or do not like?

One thing I like about sum­mer, when I can catch my breath and en­joy it, is the fact that it is made up of those lazy, hazy days I en­joy so much. Not hav­ing a sched­ule, not hav­ing a dead­line, not hav­ing any­body telling me what I should or should not do. Ah, those crazy, lazy days of sum­mer.

The fact that I did not get much done dur­ing the sum­mer is no big deal. If any­body asked me if I got any­thing ac­com­plished, I just said, “Hey, it’s sum­mer. Re­lax. I will get to it even­tu­ally.”

Well, even­tu­ally has caught up with me and it is called win­ter.

The dif­fer­ence be­tween sum­mer and win­ter is that dur­ing the sum­mer, you can get away with do­ing noth­ing but in the win­ter, there is noth­ing you can get away with.

Dur­ing the sum­mer my wife will ask me if I have done such and such and I re­spond by say­ing, “It’s sum­mer, I’ll get to it. I got plenty of time.”

Dur­ing the win­ter, my wife will re­mind me of all the things I was sup­posed to do dur­ing the sum­mer and that now I have to do be­cause win­ter is a com­ing.

Sum­mer is hazy and lazy, while win­ter is “Hurry up and get it done.”

More is ex­pected from a per­son dur­ing the win­ter months that dur­ing the sum­mer. I ob­ject very stren­u­ously to this kind of at­ti­tude. Of course, this at­ti­tude comes from the Gra­cious Mis­tress of the Par­son­age. She has the idea that win­ter, or at least the be­gin­ning of win­ter, is the time to clean up ev­ery­thing. By ev­ery­thing, she is in­clud­ing the garage.

Now that sum­mer is over and the lawn does not need to be mowed any­more, I can, ac­cord­ing to her logic, trans­pose that en­ergy into clean­ing up things. Then she will con­front me with a fa­vorite say­ing of hers, “Clean­li­ness is next to god­li­ness.”

One of these days, when I get up the courage, I am go­ing to ask her to show me where that verse is in the Bible. I kind of think a per­son can be too clean, like squeaky clean. You know how squeaky gets on peo­ple’s nerves, es­pe­cially mine.

My fa­vorite say­ing is, “Lazi­ness is next to ev­ery­thing.”

Per­haps that is why I like sum­mer so much. There are shades of lazi­ness that can only be ex­ploited in the good old sum­mer­time.

Some peo­ple, like the one who shares a res­i­dence with me, things that lazi­ness is a ver y neg­a­tive thing. This per­son hon­estly be­lieves that if she is not do­ing some­thing all the time she is lazy. Some­thing good can be said about be­ing lazy. You get to sa­vor a mo­ment of non-ac­tiv­ity.

The thing I like so much about sum­mer is the ac­tiv­ity you do do is only the ac­tiv­ity that you want to do like sit­ting on the back porch, drink­ing a glass of le­mon­ade, which is what sum­mer is all about.

Solomon, the wis­est man who ever lived, un­der­stood this con­cept very well. He says, “To ev­ery­thing there is a sea­son, and a time to ever y pur­pose un­der the heaven,” (Ec­cle­si­astes 3:1 KJV).

Time goes by so quickly that a per­son hardly has enough time to re­ally ap­pre­ci­ate the time that they have.

Dr. James L. Sny­der is pas­tor of the Fam­ily of God Fel­low­ship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Sil­ver Springs Shores. Call him at 1-866552-2543 or email jamess­ny­der2@ His web­site is www.jamess­ny­der­min­

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