16 April 2015

why there isn't a pause button

perhaps i am the only one but i often find myself at moments when i would give some inordinate amount of money to have the ability to pause my life. you know, like in a scene from x-men when the professor freezes all the non-mutants while they have a chat about what to do now or while they simply escape--i've felt it both ways. sometimes it can be about freezing an amazing moment, making it last forever as the poets say. but often i simply want to take a moment to breathe, to think about where all my choices are taking me, to think about how i can do this right.
instead, every minute is the same sixty seconds and i have no choice but to live life forward. detached, that is a word that comes easily to mind when part of me rebels against this lack of time-outs (not due to a surplus of red cards, mind you). i came across a sentence that i wrote a bit ago and thought how picturesque it is to describe when you want the ride to stop but it's impossible (and how your emotions only complicate matters):
"Then, as I realized that this was indeed a storm brewing, as I saw--and still do--the clouds piling up over the crashing waves and my crazy little heart sailing merrily out to meet her fate, I cried out again [to Him]."
not only is the pause button conspicuously absent, but the fast-forward and rewind are nonexistent as well. there is only play. but play is intentional, and realizing on this speeding train that can seem to be only steered precariously by decisions and dreams that in fact Divine grace can be our Conductor if we give Him control and we can sit back and rest in the knowledge that His heart is good and His every thought toward us is love. 

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