I'm afraid. I'm afraid for what the doctor will say, what the scan will show, what the results will mean. I'm afraid that hidden in the string of incomprehensible medical terms will be the bottom line of less time.
What if the cancer has grown? What if more brain tissue is damaged? What if they find a new tumor? What if? What if? What if?
A dear friend and counselor of mine told me, as I rattled off my imagined scenarios for my mother-in-law's Friday appointment, that "the thing with what if's is they breed an infinite number of more what if's."
She's right.
I spend my todays worrying about my tomorrows. I waste the currency of the present on the possibilities of the future. Instead of inhaling the moment, I hyperventilate about the moments to come.
And time, my friends, keeps marching on.
I've worn myself thin by trying to run ahead of that relentless drill sergeant. I'm hyperventilating because I can't possibly catch a breath if I'm trying to not only get ahead, but also sprint through every possible path that time could take in its marching.
By imagining the future, by indulging the fear that there may be less time, I've only succeeded in wasting the time I've been given.
It seems that to live in the present is not our natural state of being, or at least not our simplest. We like to be in control. We like to know what is coming. In essence, we like to play God.
To be mindful takes practice. To be still takes training. To not indulge the desire to command the paths ahead takes repeated submission to God's sovereignty.
These spiritual exercises, and yes they are spiritual, require something of us. Although God gives supernatural peace, we still have the choice to squander the peace born in the present on fear focused in the future.
Don't do it. Take it from me my friend, you will never find rest by dwelling on the not yet.
This is our challenge, our dare: To live in today, in the daily bread; to break the perpetual cycle of what if's; to surrender to the care of God; and, in the words of one of my favorite writers,
“To stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.”