simply waiting

Lately I have been thinking a lot about the simple life. I wonder if things have become too fast, too easy, too instant. 

Grandpa turns 91 next month. So much has changed over his lifetime.  

Have things become easier? Or, have we too easily let things become us? 

There was a lot of waiting in times past. Waiting, in turn, birthed time for rest.

Now, my efficiencies have eroded the delicate balance between work and play. More technology screams for more attention. Hours burn quickly under the heat of the now.

Waiting - like clothes drying under the hot summer sun - is a lost art.

I often forget why I am rushing in the first place. It is like the beating of my very heart is tied to Father Time's own wrist. Tick. Tock. Invisible handcuffs that hold me down.

I long to be released from time's merciless hold.

My eyes set on Grandpa's quiet hands. His hands are etched with lines of his own battles with time.

I think he has drawn them quite well. 

Rather than clutching to do lists and to gain lists, his hands are rested in prayer. Words of thanks and praise delivered simply from his lips, heart, and hands.

These lessons, that come from God's own hands, are the ones I want to pass onto my children:  patience, tenderness, rest.

I prayerfully wait, watch and listen for the lessons.

"May the favour of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands." Psalm 90:17

Photos: clothesline hung at the Young farm, barbed wire lost in time, Grandpa's resting hands, my son resting his hand in his great-grandfather's palm. 

Freeze-Framing Life over @ Claire B