All life has rhythm!
Every creature on earth, and the earth itself, dances to the music of time. Day by day, season by season and year by year the beat goes on. Rhythms set the pace for all creation.
My biological clock began to tick nine months before my birth!
I was a frightened child. As far back as I remember I lived in fear of being separated from my mother. I feared the dark, bogeymen, spiders, and even Santa Claus!
I started school and feared leaving the teachers side. There was no grounding for my irrational fears. They were simply there.
The internal clock ticked on!
At puberty, there was a wonderfully orchestrated biological cycle of complex hormone production. Each cycle produced an egg, a potential human being, which if given life would beat to itsí own rhythm.
Under the influence of this hormonal activity, the frightened child of a few short years ago became a headstrong teen, fighting to take control of her life from bewildered parents; unbelieving of the dynamics that was snatching their baby from them.
I was entering the season my mother was leaving!
The immature teen became mesmerised by the spirit of the age. The freedom of the 60ís; with its liberation of moral standards and search for meaning through any channel that seemed to suit. Live for today, tomorrow may never come!
And the clock ticked on!
One day I experienced an event so mind blowing and life changing; nothing I had ever done before or will do again can compare. I gave birth to my baby boy!
In an instant I was catapulted from the season of ĎME;í my life, my ambitions, my right to be who I choose to be, and entered a new phase. Now my internal rhythm became intricately linked to the needs of my baby.
Motherhood is a precious gift from God!
I wanted this season to last forever. One baby boy was followed by another. Life was perfect!
My boys were handsome. My boys were quick to learn. My boys were my life!
But something was wrong! A mother knows!
Insidiously it began to sneak up. My boys remained children too long. I thought for them, spoke up for them, sorted out their problems.
Their voices became deep; healthy bodies grew strong, but these were troubled young men. The season of youth came to torture their souls. They were different, imperceptibly so for a while but young people are quick to pick up. Friendships failed, despondency led to apathy, whilst normality danced itís natural rhythm all around, taunting them, making them acutely aware of their social lack.
Now Iím old!
Time takes on new meaning. Iím regressing to the child; the one who feared the darkness.
Who will care enough about my boys to look out for them when Iím gone? Will they live their entire lives in isolation and loneliness? Who will help if they fall ill and need a doctor?
WILL ANYONE BE THERE TO HOLD THEIR HANDS WHEN ITíS THEIR TIME TO DIE!
There are parents of people with Aspergerís whoíve taken their childís life shortly before taking their own. Such is the depth of despair these parents plummet out of love and concern for the future of their child!
I too would take my babies with me if I could, but theyíre not mine to take!
In the same way, my own life is not my own. Iíve handed them back to the one who gave them life and whose timing is perfect. They are who they are, and were given to me for a season and a reason.
Iím commanded not to worry about tomorrow so with Godís grace I will stop!
Modern life makes us slaves to a hard taskmaster; the clock on the wall by whose tick the rhythm of life is measured. Now is the moment to stop and put life into perspective!
Lifeís rhythm will continue on earth until God has worked out His purpose. I will trust His word that all things work together for good for those who love Him, and are called by Him according to His purpose.
When that day dawns I will thank Him from the heart of a frightened child, an unruly teenager, a devoted mother, and a little old lady, who became very still one day and reflected on the seasons of her life.
And in so doing, saw the mysterious and intricately woven thread of Godís leading throughout!
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