Because there never seems to be enough time.

It was early afternoon in late December.

In just a few hours our holiday guests would be arriving.

So, I headed out to the winter garden in hopes of finding some herbs for a favorite recipe we had planned for dinner.

The plants had all fallen dormant for the season. Hunkering down for the cold and snowy months ahead. Broad strokes of browns and grays now stretched across the withered foliage. Wilted memories of a colorful summer.

Then I saw it ~ tiny green leaves dotting the frail, woody stems.

Thyme.

It was peeking out from beneath the sycamore leaves that had fallen months before.

Carefully, I clipped the last bits of fragrance. A lovely aroma in the cold December air. The perfect accompaniment to the roast chicken that would grace our table later that evening.

I pinched and pulled, trying to gather as many sprigs as I could. There wasn’t much to be found.

There never seems to be enough thyme, I thought.

There never seems to be enough time.

As we move into the New Year, we are continually reminded of this quantitative measurement. A way to mark our existence here on earth.

The passage of it in our lives.

The passage of time.

Recollecting the past, and the memories we hold dear. Sometimes regrets that plague our days.

Looking forward into the future with gleeful anticipation. Or perhaps with fear and angst. Worry filling our hearts as we consider the strength and fortitude needed for the road ahead.

Contemplating the present and its seeming misalignment with our expectations.

…

What have we done with our time?

Where did it go?

What will we do with our time in the months ahead?

Regardless of how we answer these questions, we are all faced with our perceptions of time in some way. And some seasons of our lives speak more vehemently of time than others.

Birthdays.

Weddings.

Deaths.

Even in our day-to-day routines, we can often feel as if there is not enough of it.

Not enough time.

A friend recently told me that she needed about four more days to accomplish what she had to get done before Christmas. The problem ~ it was already Christmas Eve.

Oh, to be able to purchase time from the aisles of our local store. Or by placing an order from the pages of a vintage catalog,  delivered by post into our mailbox.

Just a sliver of time to finish a project that ended up being more complicated than we originally thought.

Maybe something bigger ~ a chunk of time, for an extended break from the hectic pace of life.

No matter the reason, we frequently find ourselves grasping for more.

2 Peter 3:8

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.

We had visited my parents recently for the holidays.

Playing games. Exchanging gifts. Sharing timeless traditions and culinary customs. Spending precious time together.

…

I was the last one up in the quiet of the house.

A miniature Christmas tree cast a warm glow in the living room.

The ticking of the old pendulum clock offered a rhythmic and peaceful lull.

That clock used to hang in the kitchen of my grandmother’s house. I remember. On the east-facing wall between the tall windows. The paned glass flooding the kitchen with sunshine on pancake Saturday mornings.

Now it sets rhythm to the days of a later generation ~ this place in time.

Memories surrounded me.

My granddad’s pocket watch. My father’s stack of newspapers. Needlework lovingly stitched decades ago hangs still. Framed on walls.

Old books on antique shelves. A tiny music box.

A lifetime of special things on display.

…

But the greatest treasures were sitting there just a few hours ago in this same room.

Three generations in a constant exchange of laughter and conversation.

Remembering times past and making new memories. My Sweet Louise and I heard stories of a different world.

A different time.

I listened as my mother shared stories of childhood days spent at the park with her siblings. Radio shows. Saturday matinees at the theatre. Reading the comics. Hanging clothes in the attic on bad weather days. And endless baking escapades.

A steady smile warmed her face as she reminisced.

And my father’s stories of growing up in the city. A very different picture. It was war time.  Headlines gripped the country and images of fighting filled the back-pages of the newspaper. His father died when he was just sixteen ~ leaving him to be the ‘man of the house’. A great responsibility to bear on such young shoulders. Paper routes and odd jobs. Enlisting in the service just two years later.

The room slowly emptied as sleepy eyes were bidding a good-night. I couldn’t help but stay up to hear more from my dad.

For another 30-minutes he told me of his experiences and adventures. The joys of learning and his always trying to embrace opportunity. A trait passed down from his mother ~his ‘hero’ as he fondly referred to her.

Before he headed off to bed, dad gently smiled.

“I’ve lived a good life,” he said. “Your mother and I have enjoyed a good marriage. God has always been at the center of it all. And do you know what honey? I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

So as I sat in the final hour of that day, I again pondered the concept of time.

Ticking past.

Who would have ever thought that after 10 years of estrangement from my parents that we would have any relationship at all?

Not in a million years did I think it was possible.

But in God’s time and in God’s plan it was.

In His time there is hope for redemption.

In His time old wounds can be healed.

And in His time bridges collapsed from a broken past can be mended. New relationships can be built.

For He is the Almighty One!

…

And because of this gift I am blessed to receive the wisdom if my eighty-year-old parents.

Because of this gift my Sweet Louise has a connection to her grandparents. To her past.

For with our faithful and Heavenly Father there is always enough time.

More than enough.

When we realize that time is not relative to us, only to our Savior ~ everything falls into place.

Psalm 104:19

He made the moon to mark the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down.

Perhaps there is not enough time for us to complete what we have on our agendas.

But there is always enough time for God to shape us and to use us for the workings of His masterpiece.

For the purpose of His plan.

In His time.

…

So as we move ever closer to the New Year, may we consciously choose a sense of abundance rather than disparity.

Let us stay close to our Jesus through the joys and the sorrows that will mark the months and years that lie ahead. And in that place of rest, may our hearts come to know the recipe for experiencing a greater JOY in this life.

A recipe to savor.

The true knowing that there is always more than enough time when we wholly TRUST in Him.

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Roast chicken and potatoes with thyme and garlic

Adapted from a recipe in Apples for Jam, by Tessa Kiros

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1 chicken (about 3 1/2 pounds)

salt

4 cloves garlic, peeled but left whole

about 10 thyme sprigs

3 bay leaves (fresh if possible)

6 or 7 potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks

4 1/2 tablespoons butter, softened

1 cup water, plus 4 to 5 tablespoons

4 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

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This is a lovely roast chicken…with just a dash of cream to bring everything and everyone together. You will need to use a roasting pan that can also be put on the stovetop to heat up the sauce. If you don’t have anything suitable, you can transfer all the chicken juices to a small saucepan.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Wipe the chicken with paper towels and put breast-side down in a large roasting pan. Put a little salt, a garlic clove, 3 of the thyme sprigs, and 1 of the bay leaves in the cavity of the chicken. Place the potatoes and remaining garlic around the chicken. Rub the skin of the chicken with some of the butter and dot the rest over the potatoes. Bury the rest of the thyme sprigs under the potatoes, then sprinkle salt over the potatoes and the chicken. Pour 1 cup of water around the edge of the pan.

Roast for about 1 hour or until the chicken is nicely golden, then turn it over and shuffle the potatoes around. Spoon the pan juices over the top of the chicken and potatoes and sprinkle some salt over the new top of the chicken. Roast for about 30 minutes, shuffling the potatoes around again halfway through without breaking them up too much, or until the chicken is deep golden and crispy and its juices run clear. Transfer the chicken to a generous serving platter with a bit of a raised edge and arrange the potatoes around the chicken. Keep warm.

Put the roasting pan of cooking juices over medium heat on the stovetop. Using a wooden spoon, scrape up all the golden bits from the sides and bottom of the pan. If there isn’t much liquid, add 4 to 5 tablespoons of water. Bring to a boil and cook until slightly thickened. Stir the cream through and let it all bubble up, whisking so it all comes together as one. Pour over the chicken on the platter and serve immediately.

Enjoy!

Serves 4.