For reasons unknown, she didn't like me very much. And, as a result, I grew to despise her. In fact, the only time I was ever over at her house were the times when my parents would take long weekend trips down to Omaha, Nebraska. I would be banished to "Grandma's", where I'd spend most of the time eyeing the clock and waiting for Sunday night.
Any good memories of my time at that house are few and far between. In fact, I can count every one of them on just one of Mickey Mouse's four-fingered hands. (And that's still a finger too many, if you catch my drift.)
As much as I hated going to her place, there were a few things in that house that I was mildly obsessed with. Her library. Her office. Her dogs. Her wildly overgrown backyard. And, last but certainly not least, her refrigerator.
My grandmother was an obsessive refrigerator decorator. Her refrigerator door was always covered in layers and layers of pictures, newspaper clippings, magazine articles, artwork from her "other" grandkids, and magnets from almost every business in town. It used to fascinate me. Whenever I'd go to get something from the icebox, I'd be sidelined by the many messages / images displayed on that giant slab of steel: a picture of my cousin, Buffy, sitting on my grandmother's lap; a newspaper article about the nursing home where my grandmother volunteered; countless pictures of her dogs, Juno and Bonnie; a magazine cutout of a beautiful bouquet of flowers; a recipe for pecan pie...
But my favorite thing on her fridge, the one thing that marked me for life and acts as one of my only three good memories of my time at my grandmother's house, was a quote. I was around six or seven when I first saw it, and the phrase immediately seared itself onto my brain. To this day, I regret that I never made a copy of that aging brown piece of newspaper. I don't even remember the quote word for word. But every day, the gist of those words flows through my mind.
It went something like this: You are trading a day of your life for this moment right now. You can spend it as you want. But remember, you will never get it back. Once the sun goes down, this day will be gone forever. You can squander your time, or use it wisely. It's up to you. But you can never get this day back.
Again, that wasn't word for word. And from what I remember, the actual saying was much longer. But as a child of seven, I was fascinated by those words. By the mere fact that each day was mine to spend however I wanted. It was a haunting message, one that scared me at first. I remember feeling an immediate need to rush around and accomplish as much as I could: read every book on my shelf; walk my dog, Holly; play kickball with Matt Pridie; swim an extra ten laps in our pool; ride my bike up to Washington school and back; start tap dance classes; spend an extra half hour every day pitching... I literally ran myself ragged for awhile.
Now, as an adult, I'm not that frantic. Well, maybe I still am, to a degree. (Chris will test to this.) I still feel a need to run around and make every second of every day count. To this day, I feel like I'm slacking if I sleep in on Saturdays. A lazy weekend at home without accomplishing anything makes me cringe. If I could have it my way, I'd be going-going-going all the time. Nonstop. Doing as much as I can with the time that I have. Because, you know, you trade a piece of your life for each day and, once the sun sets, you never get it back...
Whew.
This past Sunday, Chris and I were fortunate enough to catch an episode of Joel Osteen called "Redeeming The Time." As I listened to him speak, I was reminded of that newspaper clipping on my grandmother's fridge. I was immediately intrigued.
During his sermon, Joel made the point that life is too short to focus on anything but the positive. That to give our attention to anything but our visions, goals, and passions is, in reality, only harming our progress and keeping us from realizing our dreams. Holding on to past heartaches, bitterness, and feelings of resentment only brings more of those feelings and situations into our lives.
He encouraged those of us tuning in to redeem our time. To focus on the positive aspects of our lives and forget the negative. To not spend one more day stewing in thoughts of lack and self-pity. To leave the past where it belongs - in the past. And, most importantly, to let go of any and all regrets. He made the point that disappointments are inevitable, but misery is optional.
It was such a profound sermon and, even though I don't consider myself religious, I was completely moved by his words.
Every day we grow. I've come a long ways from that naive seven-year old who used to stand mesmerized in front of her grandmother's refrigerator. And this past Sunday, as I listened to Joel Osteen's sermon, I grew again. No more will I waste one minute of my time feeling offended, bitter, angry, hurt. Never again will I involve myself in negative musings regarding our world, politics, inter-office relations, etc. If something isn't between me and my goal, I refuse to give it my attention. I'm going to start redeeming my time.
And maybe I'll even stop despising my grandmother.
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"Today, many will break through the barriers of the past by looking at the blessings of the present. Why not you?"
-- Steve Maraboli
