Famed composer and director Leonard Bernstein popularized — or at least exposed — the boomer generation to classical music. (Most of us were looking for electric guitars, a drum set, or the microphone that the lead singer was using, but Bernstein’s effort was heroic.)
At one point, he observed, “To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.”
Ironically, I think that most of us would argue that a lack of time is the very thing that keeps us from doing a great many things — living our dreams, taking that defining risk, doing what we feel called to do. And I wondered — are we out of time or are we out of hope?
Out of hope that what we feel called to do in life won’t matter? Out of hope that the opportunities won’t be there? Out of hope that we are even equal to the task?
THIS IS NOT A MOTIVATIONAL PITCH…
Sadly, I think that it is actually possible for us to find ourselves in the place where we never get to do quite what we hoped to do. Or — in the midst of life — to find ourselves the proverbial day late and a dollar short. Life’s responsibilities, changes we could have never anticipated, the mean-spirited behavior of a co-worker or boss — there are countless reasons we might never do what we hoped to do.
In fact, I think that to one degree or another most of us are convinced of that we are not doing quite what we hoped to do. None of the friends I have talked with of late feel that they are doing precisely what they planned to do at the level and in the places that they hoped to do them.
To say, then, “I don’t have enough time,” might not be enough as a starting point for our prayers. It doesn’t name the loss, or the grief we feel.
Instead, the place to start is with acknowledging the bangs, bruises, and lost dreams we have experienced along the way. That’s the kind of honest prayer that allows us to ask…
“So, now what, Lord?”
I don’t know what the answer to that question will be for you.
I do know this: God loves us not our dreams and any effort we make out of the deep sense of love that God has for us and shares that love with others is never a waste. Efforts of that kind are, in fact, the best of gifts. By contrast, when I think about efforts done on a larger stage, with more in the way of fireworks, I begin to realize that no one would have necessarily connected with those efforts or would have been touched or moved by them quite the way that I thought that they might.
In fact, regardless of what I achieve, my love for the people God has put in my life and their love for me makes all the difference. And that gives me hope.
And the time? That is here, now…in this moment.
My prayer for you is that you will find that kind of hope in this moment as well.
Thanks so much for this. I have been struggling with these very issues for some time now and was sharing them with my wife during a long walk yesterday. I find myself in the midst of the “So, now what, Lord?” prayer but fear I avoid hearing an answer because, like you said, I need to name the loss and grief I feel. Thanks for the call to hope.
One of those rare precious moments happened yesterday where I actually named and owned my root problem for not moving forward. Fear was deep inside and blocking me from tackling my project. My task was a simple one. One that I have done since 12 years of age. (Oh! so many years ago.) What is my project? Cleaning house! And I was stymied, gripped, unmoveable. But once I ralized what was preventing me and I voiced fear outloud then I simply started moving and accomplished a whole lot yesterday.
So I think that fear may be the one hidden bondage that we all need to look straight into its face. Hurt and fear do seem deeper than anger to me.
When I tackled my fear yesterday it amazingly lost some of its power over me. Why was I afraid? I have not yet got completely adjusted to being a widow even though it shall soon be 3 years. It is startling to my inner self that the phone does not ring very often when once I dreaded to hear its ring for it rang so often. Fear of being alone although I enjoy most aspects of living alone. Such a paxadox we are!
May my ramblings help someone is my prayer. We are all made of the same material — DUST — and that is just what I started conquering yesterday.