My mother used to tell me when I was little that I could make time stop. Of course we were capable of every work of Christ and therefore if we needed time to stop then all we had to do was ask God to stop time for us (slow it down essentially). And of course, I believed her. I don’t know if Christ ever stopped time actually, but I figured he would have if he could and there were so many reasons to stop time from going anywhere. Time was like a little brother you couldn’t get to sit in one space for too long and considering the fact that when baby-sitting my little brothers when I was young meant locking them in the closet so they wouldn’t go anywhere, I applied this to my magical way of ‘stopping time’. You just had to keep an eye on it. I figured if I kept looking at the clock it would sneak by slowly as not to be caught trying to slip away. You can’t take your eyes off children, you know, they will get themselves in all sorts of trouble. And anyone that has ever baked anything in the oven knows that if you keep opening the oven to see if it’s done it’ll never bake, so I stared at the clock and the time went slower.
The problem was, however, when I looked away from the clock it ran off and got itself in trouble by speeding past whole dozens of minutes! This would not do, but I couldn’t find anyone else that could watch the clock for me to make sure Time wasn’t going anywhere. This magical gift of stopping time didn’t work for just anyone, apparently, it only worked when I was watching it. I was the baby-sitter of the Universal Time and he was a very disobedient child.
This really has no point. I just remembered it this morning when I decided I needed more time to drink my coffee. I actually would love it if Time decided to run off and go faster because then my time would come a lot faster, and an ungodly amount of minutes later. Maybe Time is punishing me cause I was an awful baby-sitter and it grew up dysfunctional due to me stifling it’s creative spirit.
Maybe Time just needs some Ritalin.