Just lounging around all day, bored...

I was pulling crayons out from the couch cushions this afternoon, thinking about blogging.  The last post was almost done, but didn't save overnight.  Discouraging.  Already, I don't feel like I have enough time to accomplish even the basic necessities for the six lives who rely on me.  Nearly an hour of my life, wasted on a blog that the computer didn't keep.  Blah.

Time is precious.  My husband asked me what I wanted most on my birthday a couple weeks ago.  "Time."  I answered ruefully.  The one thing I can't have more of.  No matter how much money or power I have (and that isn't much anyway), the same number of minutes are allotted to my every day.

A sundial in the marketplace of old Philippi, Greece

Funny, I've always had the same amount of time, every day of my life and every season.  The hours seemed endless in those weeks before each baby was due.  I counted each little contraction for weeks, wondering if they would turn into the real thing, only to wake up every morning still pregnant.  In high school, waiting for English class to end after lunch seemed interminable.  Counting the days in middle school until my family went to Disney World...  A long night with a crying new baby who didn't understand darkness meant sleeping and daytime meant eating...  Time was too much.

Only two people in the history of the world have ever had time altered for them.   Joshua, when he was fighting the kings of the Amorites in Joshua 10, needed more time to finish the battle (what man can stand an unresolved project?)  God granted him almost a full day when the sun did not go down.  Then King Hezekiah, in 2 Kings 20:9-11, was granted several extra hours as a sign he was going to live longer.  So there is a whole day missing from the record of history.

I don't think God's going to give it back to me just so I can get the laundry folded.

I know about redeeming the time, not wasting it, being wise and efficient - I know all that - I'm trying.
But here's what I'm realizing.  I can't get everything done in the 24 hours of every day right now.  Period.  That's not a revelation, just a frustrating reality.  But would I like more?
Really?
More time would mean the dear old great-grandmother sitting for long hours in a sterile nursing home would have more hours to pine away in her forgetfulness.  More time spent in suspense for someone waiting for important test results to return.  More time for the widow stuck in a country plagued with famine to tell her children there is no food.  More time for me would mean my husband would be away longer at work.  Some mommy might have to be pregnant for longer.  More time would mean a longer winter.  Heck no!
No, I must learn to be content with those 24 short hours of my own day.  They are enough.  Somehow, though everything won't get done that I would like to, they are enough.  Schoolwork won't always get finished.  The fridge, the floor, the bathrooms, the laundry, the van, the lawn, won't always (or ever!?!) be clean.  All the words I wanted to say to my friends and family won't be all said.  I will have to finish my kids' baby books when they are in college.  And I'll be wondering then where the time went.  
The time I have, it is enough.