Time

I was thinking about something I said yesterday, about "damning Father Time."

I went to an excellent lecture last night by Hugh Ross, Christian Astrophysicist. I've read his books and knew he was bright. But he also handles himself well with a large (and it was over 500 people) group. I'm glad that we have such a person who takes science seriously and yet believes. There was a bit of commercialism. However, I guess these days, if you want to be a good author (good meaning making lost of $$$) you have to do a lot of self-promotion. He did book give aways, plugs for books, books on the video etc.

But with that said, I was very pleased in his work.

But the after meeting discussion brought us back to this issue of time. If you know anything about string theory, you know that it is complicated and seems necessary to explain the universe in mathematical terms. But String Theory also opens the door to many crazy notions, such as up to 9 dimensions of reality.

Hugh Ross made it clear last night, both as a scientist and a believer, that within those 9 dimensions there can only be one time dimension . . . only going in one direction . . . a geometric "ray" in other words.

But I was thinking about time as I tried to doze off to sleep last night (and trying to keep my mind of this Nepal trip). Of all the things in the world that can give me grief . . . time is one of the worse. Right now I continue to go through the separation grief from my kids. It didn't help matters that three moved away the same year. But time also took my father away from me, made my mother frail and causes my own body to ache more and more. Probably, time will take Denise away from me someday or me from her.

But of course, time is the great mender and healer. There has been times in my life that I was curled up in a ball (either figuratively . . . or literally) and wishing that I could give away a year of my life just to put chronological distance between something horrible and myself. If time did not heal, and the pains that each of us experience in life were allowed to accumulate in their full, fresh form . . . life would be unbearable. So time is a gift . . . as well as a curse.

But after this deep metaphysical conversation last night about time, I have to wonder if the dark side of time must not also be part of the Fall of Adam . . . and thus must be redeemable. But does this redemption look like? I mean, I can see how my dad would come back to me . . . in Heaven or in the New Earth. I can see how my own body will be created new and fresh and strong again.

But I don't see how my kids can be made small again. I can't imagine how they could sit on my knee and let me read them books or just spend an hour doing "silly talk." It tightens my throat to even think about those things. I know, you can "look on the bright side" and think of grand children doing the same . . . it will be nice, but not the same.

Speaking of sitting on my lap and reading books, I had a surreal experience this past Friday night. I had the opportunity to go to the movie Where the Wild Things Are with three of my sons (ages 17, 21 and 23). I can remember reading that book to them many times while they sat on my lap in their yellow, green and blue feetie flannel pjs. Hmmm. I wish I could go back.

But time will take me to Nepal, and quickly bring me home to my family. Right now, I wish I could give away three weeks of my life so I could be thinking of reuniting with my family tonight . . . rather than saying goodbye.