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Moments Frozen in Time

For the heart that longs for the time when it won't end

By Jessica FreebornPublished 2 years ago 5 min read
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Moments Frozen in Time
Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

A wise man once wrote that "To be in time means to change." Change is inevitable. It's a part of life and all that.

Just because change constantly happens doesn't make it easy to experience. And every now and then there are moments that remind us that the soul longs for the place beyond time.

In my mind, I know things must end. Often, it's a normal and healthy part of growth in this life.

But I still long to freeze time, so I wouldn't have to get to the ending.

To take a moment and keep it going. And sometimes, I long to go back, just to experience a moment again.

Even just last week, house sitting at the old farmhouse. The delightful morning with the refreshing rain. The rain soothed my soul, and the tension in my shoulders dropped as I made my morning coffee. And the moment reminded me of how I love fall, on the days where every splash of color is drenched in rain, a beauty far different from the days full of dappled fall shade and glorious sunshine. A moment.

I think back to the time I spent with one of my dearest friends. He was in grad school, and my family adopted him. Taking calculus at the university my senior year of high school proved difficult. But my friend is brilliant and used to tutor people in calculus. I think of the time I would spend at his office, slaving away at my homework. This practice continued into my freshman year of college. And his office became a haven for me, a place where I could get away, a place where all the problems of undergrad started to feel small.

I can still picture it. The office. It had three desks and a couch. The dartboard. The two big windows that let in copious amounts of natural light. This was the office people would send their plants to for revival. I would often settle in on that couch, a textbook in hand, while my friend and his office buddies did whatever it was that grad students do. And sometimes one of them would make coffee. High-snob, pour-over method. I didn't appreciate it much at the time. Sometimes we would talk, but most of the time, we all gave each other space to get our work done. Moments.

Moments that could not last. Moments that had to end. For people graduate and move away. We all have to move on, and that is good and right. But what I wouldn't give to go back to one of those afternoons. Just a day at the office. That feeling of safety and simplicity.

I think of Thanksgiving at my grandma and grandpa's house. The definition of pure coziness. When I close my eyes, I can still see that snug little house, crammed full of family members. I still don't know how we managed to squeeze in there for a long weekend with nine people and one bathroom. But we made it work.

We had turkey with every side dish known to man. (Confession: I never ate Uncle Bob's cranberry sauce.)

One time Grandma said, "I don't think I'm going to make the green bean casserole this year."

My sister just said, "Really?" Yes, there was green bean casserole that year.

Laughter. Hugs. Quiet coziness. Card games. Pictionary telephone. Good-natured arguments about when to set out the pre-dinner snacks. The fresh coffee and watching the birds land at the feeders on the deck. Leisurely walks down backroads after eating. What I wouldn't give to go back. Oh, to go back and re-live just one Thanksgiving. To savor those moments again. When we were all there.

The moments come hard and fast. Temporary and fleeting but good.

International folk dancing on Tuesday nights.

West Coast swing dancing until four o'clock in the morning.

Playing flashlight tag late into the night. Roasting marshmallows around a campfire.

Harmonizing to Disney music with friends on a stairwell that had great acoustics.

Walking with my aunt along the White Cliffs of Dover.

Lying on the mossy ground amongst the pine trees and talking with friends for hours.

Biking down the backroad with my siblings.

Running through the rain after going to the bookstore.

Sipping a fresh cup of coffee.

Smiling. Hugging. Laughing.

The beauty of memories. The good memories. Memories of the moments.

The moments that remind me that my soul longs for the world beyond this one. A place where the moments of goodness won't end. A place where there will no longer be any death, mourning, crying, or pain.

But for now, I have these moments. The reminders of what is to come, if I can have the eyes to see and the heart that is thankful. Poor reflections of what is to come, but nevertheless good. Gifts. From the only One who can give good gifts. For even in the dark times, there is grace and hope. Keep steady through the dark and know that the best is yet to come for those who believe.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. ~ C.S. Lewis

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About the Creator

Jessica Freeborn

Passionate writer that is enthusiastic about writing engaging, compelling content. Excels in breaking down complex concepts into simple terms and connecting with readers through sharing stories and personal experience.

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