I asked God to help me get sober and He did, a thousand regrets later than I wanted.
I asked God help me find me the right job and He did, after at least a dozen wrong ones.
I asked God to show me boundaries and He did, after I gave away pieces of myself I could never get back.
I asked God to reveal why I was angry and afraid and He did, but I wanted to know when I was young.
A few gray hairs have sprouted as I ponder this and I see the veins through the aging skin of my hands as my fingers click the keyboard. I have not God’s concept of eternity, only the knowledge of these things after my days are only half gone if I’m lucky.
I want to tell God He is the one who is late, sitting in eternity with nothing but time on His hands to teach lessons that come too late. But I know I’m not a robot at His dispense and like the prodigal son I have wandered far from His path.
And if I care enough to face the truth, I know that my own immaturity would have wrecked my marriage if it had on the day been of my choosing.
Emotional pain would have plunged me into relapse if God had stricken me sober when I asked Him to.
The pressure and responsibility of the ‘right’ job would have overwhelmed me if God had given it to me as I wanted.
The truth behind my anger and fear would have been too painful to know when I was young.
And had God given me boundaries before He did, I would have been without compassion.
With Him I feel like I’m constantly waiting. Without Him I’m a sheep without a Shepard prone to loneliness, regret, anger, and fear.
Gods timing is perfect, and in my own time I wandered into it expecting He could turn back the clock on what was lost, forgetting that time itself is the greatest healer.
And if my days were to end tomorrow I would have no say, for God owns the hands of time and He is the one who gives it and takes it away.