Know any 18-year-old girls?
Or rather, 18-year-old young ladies?
They straddle the fence. One foot lingers in childhood, the other dips a toe into our world when necessary and/or pleasurable.
Time marches quickly. Eighteen-year-olds soon walk away from the teen years altogether.
And are forever changed.
The change came early for Kali.
18 years ago.
On November 13.
One foot stepped in at 5:19 a.m.
The other led out by 6:36 a.m.
In 77 minutes.
A little girl.
And a grown woman.
Don’t count Kali’s life by footsteps. My little daughter’s feet never touched the ground, if you don’t count being buried in it. A cystic hygroma made her life here impossible.
So she took the shortcut home.
I used to imagine the spring in her step though. It helped. I would picture her by a stream, picking flowers, laughing, skipping around like little girls do.
I would watch.
But always from the other side of the stream.
The other side of time.
I thought time ran out too soon with Kali.
I wanted more.
Eighteen years later, I still want more. Our time together got used up too fast. None left.
But I think wrongly. Our time has NOT run out.
It has yet to really begin.
We’ll have all the time we need when time runs out.
And on that day when I skip out of here, I’ll be forever changed there, instead of only thinking I was changed 18 years ago.
Because I’ll have crossed over to the other side, too—dancing with Jesus. Dancing with my daughter.
The clock still ticks here. My feet still hit the ground every morning. Sometime I stumble.
Yet I walk on. I’m taking the long way round. The grand tour with more footsteps.
But when the hourglass drips dry, I’ll no longer have to settle for “Happy Birthday, Kali, from here to there.”
Our feet will be doing the same dance.
For all eternity.
When time runs out.
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.
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