What a Short Time We Live

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love                                                                                                Ephesians 4:2 

What a short time we live on this earth.  Recently I was helping my oldest son (Dave, not a junior just a younger) power wash his home.  It seems like such a short time ago he was obsessed with the impulse sprinklers so prevalent in the area of
Southeast New Mexico, where we lived at the time.  We couldn’t drive down the road, take a walk in the neighborhood, or even pass one of the cemeteries in town that he would begin to squeal “Chit-Chit” (that is what he called impulse sprinklers due to their distinctive sound).  Often we would stop and watch as he studied them intently.

As a father, I would try to patiently stand and allow his interest to run its course and we could move on down the road.  He was a child with endless energy and a very short attention span.  Today he would be diagnosed as ADHD, back then they just said he was “ALL BOY”.  He was extremely adept at moving from one activity to another without even dropping a syllable of the seeming endless conversation.  So much so my father, Paul, once asked me where to turn him off.  To which I could only respond, “If I only knew… if I only knew”.  The rare exception, though, was the infamous Chit-Chit.  He could stand for hours perfectly still and not say a word mesmerized by the simplest of machines. 

Back then we spent hours watching the Chit-Chit, or playing like we were Chit-Chits on the living room floor, or setting up the Chit-Chit in our own yard.  As I look back now, how is it that life then, now seems so simple.  Today we both go our separate ways to work, we rush home and get into our own after work activities. 

We live about an hours drive from each other, and we see each other all too occasionally.  Some times we ask each other for help doing something we could easily do all by ourselves just so we make time to see each other.

Dave is a lot less hyper these days.  He doesn’t jump from one activity to another as adeptly, and he takes a breath from one conversation to another.  In fact, sometimes we don’t talk at all.  At those times we just contemplate the activity before us and listen to the faint sound in the back recesses of our memory.  The distinctive sound of the New Mexico Chit-Chit.

En servicio como padre



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