My recent shoe salvation got me thinking about what else might be in my possession in need of a little TLC.
So I was delighted when a rare organizing session of my poorly neglected jewelry selection unearthed lots of forgotten treasures in need of a little care.
One piece in particular caught my attention. It was the Winnie the Pooh watch I wore through my teen years.
I wore it so much the band had to be replaced several times.
I must have stopped wearing the watch just about the time I last replaced the band though (either in a failed attempt to seem cooler, or because I had a snazzy Pink flip Motorola as a time piece).
Because when I found it the thing looked good as new.
Since I’m no longer keeping up any pretenses of coolness I was excited to get it a new battery and start rocking that sentimental accessory again.
So Mikael and I paid a visit to a local jewelry repair and watch shop.
Pooh in tow (yes, I said “Pooh in tow"), we spoke with the man behind the counter.
He couldn’t have been cuter, (I love mustached old men) and offered to fix my watch right away. Only when he put the new battery in nothing happened.
The adorable little bees that are supposed to flit about as the seconds tick did no flitting.
“Pooh’s no good,” he said.
Mikael later confessed that the man’s statement made him want to giggle, something I found incredibly endearing.
But I was really sad at the time, like, on the verge of tears sad.
And it’s not like that watch is the only remaining artifact from my oddly nerdy adolescent. (Hardly.)
It’s not like it’s the only gift my parents ever gave me, or that I wore it for luck during all my UIL competitions or something. (Also not true.)
It’s just something that once meant a lot to me, that I let sit around in a drawer for years, and when I did finally get around to fixing it, it was literally too late.
And I hate that feeling.
I hate knowing an opportunity has passed.
I hate knowing a door has closed for good, if it was a good door that is.
The shoes I saved (with a great deal of help from a washing machine) were a tangible reminder for me about the power of redemption.
They showed me that I shouldn’t give up on something just because it seems like a lost cause. And it was a very good lesson.
But what that poor Pooh watch taught me is that the time for restoration is limited.
Time itself is fleeting, fast.
So if something matters to us...
We should act, now.
We should set to work, instead of putting it off.
We should begin quickly, instead of assuming there will always be more time. ‘
Cause there won’t always be more. Sometimes the bees stop flitting.
I hesitated to share the story of the broken Pooh watch, because I know it’s very silly.
It was a very trivial thing to be sad about, in the tangible sense.
But my Eyeore-like walk around the mall that day really got me thinking… about time, and about restoration, and about how those two go hand in hand.
I first wore that watch when I was in my teens, just a kid really. I had my whole life ahead of me, and I acted like it, as so many teens do.
I spent half of high school being reckless and stupid, and the other half waiting around for life to happen to me.
I kept thinking if I just got a boyfriend then I’d be happy. If I just got my license… If I could just hurry up and graduate…
I kept waiting for these milestones as signals to dig in and really start my life.
But instead I just kept passing them by.
I just kept waiting.
Well I’m 28 now. And I know that’s not 98, but time flies by much quicker than it did back then.
At 18 I couldn’t imagine pushing 30. I couldn’t even imagine making it past 21.
Now I feel like 40 will be here tomorrow! (And 70 will be right behind that.)
Time goes so fast. Sooo fast. Yet I forget that, on a daily basis.
I still sit around waiting for life to happen, like I’m 17 with all the time in the world.
But I’m not. And I don’t want to be either. I don’t want to go back, or fast forward.
I just want to use this time I’m given, instead of trying (in vain) to save it…
I want to stop waiting, and start living, as if time were precious, priceless, because really, it is.
And don’t worry.
This isn’t some morbid diatribe against youth, or a rebel YOLO cry.
This is my aging eyes opening, and my priorities changing...
This is my lesson from the Pooh watch.
I’ve spent so much of my life waiting…
For things to get easier.
For my fears to subside.
For directions to be clearer…
That I haven’t done nearly as much living as I’d like.
And I desperately want to change that, while I still have the time.
I want to stop waiting for the right time, and just start.
It’s time to start!