On our deck again

The night was beautiful. The moon, a few days from full, still lit up the cloudless night. I recalled similar nights in northern British Columbia and how the blanket of snow made the night luminous. Hudson, my son, echoed this image as he told how one early morning in winter he came out on the deck and was amazed at how bright and glowing everything was because the moon was shining bright. His regret, "I didn't stay longer".

It was a "stop and smell the roses" moment. I shared about how we'll never be here again. How when we miss seeing the blessing of the moment, the moment is gone.

We sat there watching the embers of the fire glow as it burnt down. I was compelled to reminisce back to the time, as a young boy, I had a miniature deck of cards that I had got from a bubblegum machine. How I had worked hard at separating each card. How I had demanded my Mom come and play with me. How I had threatened her with the destruction of the deck if she didn't come and play, now! She was busy cooking supper. Another moment, but not so Rosey.

I made a choice. As I ripped up the deck of cards, she came into the living room and said: "OK, lets play cards".

The sense of loss was magnified by the realization there was nothing I could do, the deck of cards was gone. Then the realization... It was my fault. Another moment, yes. But oh, the regret, the sense of loss!

Well, what has that to do with our study of time? Hmmm?

I exist. I exist in a continuity. The continuity of the continuum is big. There is incomprehensible complexity in the continuity that exists in the totality of the now. Now is dynamic, it changes with every moment. "Now" is tensed, its change is in one direction. This moment exists in the temporality of God. What was, will never come again.

What is a 6-year-old to do? The moment is gone, never to be recovered. My own choice brought upon me an unanticipated consequence. A sense of loss beyond compare. Is there a lesson to be learned?

Well, of course there is.