I stepped in line at a local store recently with an exceptionally long line and, what promised to be, exceptionally slow service. I glanced at my watch to see 2:35. I began watching a mom and her ten year old daughter standing in front of me. The girl was playing an electronic game on a pink box the size of a wallet. The mom was not looking down and the girl was not looking up. Not a word was spoken between them.
After a bit, I looked at my watch again and saw eight minutes had passed, when the girl tugged at her mother’s purse and said, “I’m done with this.” She chunked the box in the purse with no response from the mom. I was glad to see her give up the box, hoping that conversation would begin. But instead of conversation, the girl pulled out a blue box and became entranced once again.
It was now 2:46. The mom finally made her purchase and headed for the door as I stepped up to the register. I couldn’t help but watch the pair leave. You guessed it, not a word was spoken as they left the store. The mom even opened the door for her little girl, lost in her box, to exit.
It was now 2: 52.
Just think what could have transpired between mom and daughter in those 17 minutes if those boxes weren’t around. They could have planned dinner, discussed her homework, talked about difficulties at school or shared a funny moment about why the lady behind them kept looking at her watch. But rather than drawing them closer together, those 17 minutes pushed mom and daughter further apart.
Time counts. Every minute of every day does count. We can make our time count for something or nothing, but time keeps ticking.
Hoping for hours filled with minutes that count for something grand,