A friend and I met for breakfast this week at ten a.m. at a charming restaurant in an old renovated home with a generous front porch, the kind of porch that invites you to sit and chat awhile. There wasn't a firepit to gather around, but there may as well have been. Time seems to be of no consequence when people sit around a fire. Thoughts flow. Something beautiful happens. Memories are shared and made there. No one looks at a clock and says, "OK. Twenty-nine more minutes of intimate sharing, spontaneous singing, and humorous stories before we snuff the flame." People linger. Even silence is comfortable as people gaze at the dancing, crackling show of flames.
The waitress refilled our water and coffee cups several times. The porch became quieter around us. We finally looked up to realize the restaurant was closing. The restaurant closes at three p.m.! That's five hours we shared together. We've done this once before, this friend and I, but the time before this, we had arrived an hour earlier! I explained to her as we walked back to our cars that the Bible has Greek words for time that are different from each other: "chronos" and "kairos." Chronos is time that can be counted, while kairos is a sort of timeless time, a passing of time that is unmeasured. No doubt we were operating on kairos during our time together. My husband asked what we talked about for all that time. I couldn't quite say. I just know we shared our hearts and enjoyed each other.
Brent and I attended a funeral this morning of Pete, a man who was killed in an auto accident last week. Pete and his wife, Lori, went to the same church we did while we raised our children. He and Brent played softball together, while we wives sat in the stands talking, cheering on our husbands, and watching our kids. Lori taught my girls in dance lessons. Brent taught their boys in Awana and took them on some camping trips with the Awana group.
After the funeral, Brent got to speak with Peter, their oldest son, who shared memories of having worn numerous layers of pants and underwear to pad himself while sliding down rocks at Joshua Tree but still tearing holes through all of them. Then there was the fire young Peter started that was not remotely near the fire ring. Other memories surfaced for us: Lori choreographing church performances and leading fun picnic recitals; Pete and Lori, when they were dating, starring in "West Side Story" together, their affection for each other quite obvious on the stage; all-church camping trips; babies born; miscarriages; worshiping together.
I made my way through the crowd after the funeral and saw others with whom I've shared "kairos" moments. I saw a lady I was in Bible study with 20 years ago. I remembered a story she shared about a hummingbird flying in her bedroom window and hovering over her when she was depressed. Another, whose mother had dementia. I remember the humor God provided during the heartache of watching her mother's mind diminish. That couple who thought they would never see their son again, who eventually did.
The pastor who led the funeral reminded us we will all see Pete in heaven one day. I can't help but think, when I look upon soul-sharing "kairos" moments, that in a sense we have "seen each other in heaven." Those moments were times when timeless heaven came to us, inviting us to gather around the fire, share, and enjoy each other.
Well, a half hour ago, Brent asked me how long before I wanted to have him help me complete the fire-ring assembly project. "Twelve minutes," I told him. "Just give me twelve more minutes." Time marches on—except for those times it just doesn't.
I think I am going to like heaven.
4 comments:
Beautiful Diane. Makes me want to share more kairos time with others. Wish I could have been there yesterday.
Beautiful! I absolutely love campfires!
I read this again my dear sister. I can only thank you for your friendship and thoughtful words. When you write, you write just to me, even though I know it is for more ears to hear.
Thank you, Paula. I have wonderful kairos times with you! Remember when I got to Vancouver once and we just sat on that elevated train thing and talked. We didn’t really have a destination. Or the last time I was there and we sat in the grocery store parking lot and talked!
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