(Re-posting: Please be encouraged to make every dot on the timeline count.)

I remember, in my first year of university, studying the timeline of music history.

It’s funny how we put time on a line and scratch dashes through it and history seems small when it’s cut down to two 8.5×11 sheets of paper.

I laugh and tell Mom almost every week, “I don’t remember anything!”

Except for some things.

Almost a year ago, I held his hand while Dad played him his favourite hymn for the last time and the evening sun streamed through the window in the palliative care unit. I remember the deep orange of the setting sun.

It was a point on my timeline that seemed to change everything.

Last month, I walked out of my last exam and read the text that her first baby girl was born. It was that feeling of smallness, like I was looking down from space at my tiny human frame bent over a text, under millions of stars.

Another point.

Every point opening my eyes to the shortness of life.

Why does life seem so short if eternity doesn’t exist with which to be compared?

Ecclesiastes 3:11 “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.”