There Is No Safe Way to Time Travel

Looking into the mirror, Locking into the moment

There is no safe way to time travel. Even if you happen upon a machine in working order, once you get to the past, you will be scared to move for fear of changing something that will void your existence. And if you make it to the future and back again, two questions will always haunt you: Is it set in stone? Or do I have a choice?

A woman looks in the mirror. She takes a good look at the face staring back at her. She closes her eyes and lets her life come to her in flashes. Sitting on her father’s knee, running through the summer garden, telling secrets to her cats. Brushing her long, brown hair, wondering who she will become. Eyes locking in, for the first time, on the man she will one day marry, feeling the vibrations of time strum through her as two lives begin to twist into one strand. Her face, bent over a textbook in the late afternoon, scribbling notes for a final exam. Grading papers, mixing chemicals in the darkroom, blaring the radio and signing at the top of her lungs. Her family gathered, standing in the same garden. Holding hands, weeping promises for a future she cannot yet imagine. I dos. Walks to town, sleeping in on Saturdays, the slant of striped light coming through the blinds in the first house she shared with her husband. The upright piano at the foot of the bed. Packing boxes, painting walls, arranging furniture. The groans of childbirth, blood and water, ring of fire, holy moment of eyes locking in. Again and again. Recognition, one birth after the next. The quivering strand twists and tightens, the chords thickening. Time and time again.

With eyes still closed, she takes it to the future. She sees her children grow and leave home. Flashing farther, the man she loves will die. She will die. Their bodies will lie lifeless in the ground and their memory will grow fainter year by year. Flowers will grow and die. Snows will fall. The songs they used to sing will be forgotten.

She opens her eyes and locks in to the face in the mirror. Recognition. Slow, deliberate breaths. The blood pulses. The heart beats. She blinks hard, and allows herself to forget that life is hard. That most things are out of her control. That the life she has is very different than the one she imagined for herself. She opens wide the windows of her soul. She lets the love for this life—the real one that is waiting for her just outside this bedroom door—flood in like morning light. The life that is messy, where the work is never done, where the questions never get answered. Where things are not yet set in stone. Where the people she loves are here, alive, breathing, singing, being. She lets time move through her. Moment by moment. Gift by gift.

It is useless to try to go back. It is dangerous. The wisdom, hard won over long years, will not fit into the old body. Each season holds its own hope, and one hope cannot translate into another season. And it is just as futile to keep trying to get further into your life, reaching to a certain point in time where it finally makes sense, where there is ease and order and certain dreams have come true. You will find yourself looking back at all the time you wasted, grasping for a future that will eventually come on its own. This is your life on earth. It only lasts a moment, and then it is gone. There is faith for the day, there is hope for tomorrow, there is love that remains.

And so today I will open my eyes and lock in. Breathe. Heart-beat. Be. I will let the tension of this life pull the chord taught. I will allow the hand of God to touch it and turn it into song. And while I have breath, I will do my best to sing along.

Self-portrait from my darkroom days with light coming through the blinds…

sketch from my journal

Dear friends,

Sending love today from my sunny desk with a cup of coffee and an open sketchbook and a few hours ahead of me to write and work with moderate interruption. (Thanks to my husband and older children who are keeping the day going so I can work.) It has been a week of trying to get my life in order (and failing miserably…). This post was born out of a conversation with a friend and also some soul-searching about how I keep trying to get to the future version of myself when I have it all figured out. Deep down, I know I won’t have it all figured out until I’m in my eternal home, and frankly, I don’t want to die yet. So why do I keep striving for that level of understanding??? There is faith for the day, hope for tomorrow, and the love of God that remains with me in every moment. So I am taking that up as a gift today and asking that He will help me to live this day as fully as I can. I hope you can do the same wherever you are and whatever circumstances you find yourself in today.

I wanted to say a quick thank you for being here, and a heartfelt welcome to all of my new subscribers. Last week, many kind and generous souls shared my post titled Nine Kids and Misunderstood, and that put my writing in a new stream of readers. It is so nice to see so many new faces, and it also greatly encouraged me that maybe I am not as misunderstood as I felt, as many of you have said that you can relate to these words. So thank you for being here. I sincerely hope you find these weekly letters nourishing to your souls.

Sending love,

Mackenzie

From The Sacred Everyday Podcast:

If you are new to my podcast, I’d love to share this episode about life in a big family with you.

From the Family Archive:

Faith, Hope, Love by my husband, Randy Chester from his Gandalf-beard days. I love this song. You can find more of our music on his youtube channel (and mine as well…)

My Book:

My book is currently on sale on amazon (normally $16.99, now $11.70!). I have no idea how long the sale will last, but if you have been considering purchasing a copy, this is a good time. (It is also available on bookshop or wherever you purchase books online.)