There is
something I want to do. Correction, I want it done. The area is prepared; the
next action is identified. But this project depends on several people not just
me. They obviously have priorities that do not include my project. Working with
others demands I experience process. My project moves forward only as fast as
the slowest member of the team.
We talk
about the mental process, the manufacturing process, the decision making
process, and due process of law. Then there is processed cheese, processed
rubber, and processed information. Job hunting is a process. The inception of a
thought must process through the synapses before it achieves recognition,
before it can be named.
If there is
something that does not involve process, I can’t think of it. A meal, dressing
for the day, garbage collection, the hangnail developing on my left thumb, a
storm, a sunset, an argument: all take time. I can think of nothing that skips
beginning and jumps immediately into the past, fait accompli.
And time is
one of the crucial realities of living we cannot control. We may anticipate as
we move toward a desirable process like a train trip through Pennsylvania, or a
week of vacation at the beach.
At a
different time dread overwhelms our emotions; we fearfully trudge through a
painful, inevitable process. We endure until the process is finished with us.
Process
takes time. Even though nothing can try my patience like waiting for process to
unfold, time is necessary. Grace allows others time to proceed on their course
as it intersects ours. And through process we learn about ourselves, both good
and not so good. It’s about time.
It’s all
about time.
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