What If You Couldn’t Turn the Page Back?

I recently came across a quote that really made me think: “Imagine reading a book with no way to turn back the page. How carefully would you read it? That’s life.”

Think about that for a minute. If you were reading a book and knew that once you turned the page you could never go back, you would probably read a little slower and pay a lot more attention to the words. You might linger over certain sentences a little longer, instead of rushing to see what happens next. You might not skim through the parts that seemed boring because you would know that once that page was turned, it was gone … you couldn’t go back for a recap … a reminder.

Y’all … THAT”S LIFE

So much of our lives is spent looking ahead. We’re waiting for Friday, waiting for vacation, waiting for the kids to get through a difficult stage, waiting until we have more money, waiting until work settles down, waiting for retirement. We convince ourselves that the next chapter is where life will finally get good. And while we’re waiting for the next chapter, we can completely miss the page we’re on.

I know this because I’ve done it.

When I was younger, I thought I had a pretty good idea of how my story would unfold. I imagined my children growing up, living nearby, grandchildren running through my house, Sunday dinners, holidays crowded around the table and all of us growing older together. I assumed there would be time for all of it. I never imagined that some of the pages I was living would someday become the pages I would give almost anything to turn back to. But life doesn’t give us that option.

There are conversations I would love to have again. There were ordinary afternoons I would have paid much more attention to. There were hugs I would have held a little longer –  a little tighter. Moments that seemed completely insignificant at the time that I now understand were anything but insignificant. That is one of the strange things about life: we often don’t recognize a precious moment while we are living it. We recognize it when it becomes a memory.

I’m not saying we should grip every moment so tightly that we become terrified of losing it, I’m just saying we should make an effort to be fully present for it.

Maybe that means putting the phone down when someone you love is talking. Sitting on the porch a few minutes longer. Making the dinner even when ordering something would be easier. Taking the trip. Saying “I love you.” Making the phone call. Forgiving sooner. Laughing louder. Letting people know what they mean to you while they are still here to hear it. And maybe it also means not allowing anger, resentment and pride to consume pages we will never get back. How many days have we missed with someone we loved because we were determined to prove a point? How many conversations of how we were right, have we replayed in our heads? How much time have we spent worrying about something that never happened? How many beautiful ordinary days have passed while our minds were somewhere else?

The Bible says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12.

When I first read that verse it was simply a reminder that life was short. Now I hear something that means way more.  Pay attention. Every day matters. The people sitting around your table matter. The ordinary Tuesday matters. EVERY DAY MATTERS …. EVERY PAGE MATTERS

At 60, I can tell ya this …. I understand time differently than I did at 30.

I also understand that carefully reading the page doesn’t mean every page will be wonderful.  Some chapters of life are incredibly painful. Some contain things we never would have chosen. Some leave us wondering why the story had to unfold the way it did. I have pages like that too. But even painful pages can teach us something about the ones we are living now. I can’t go back and rewrite my story. None of us can. I can’t change what I said, what I did, what someone else chose, what I missed, what I lost or what I wish had happened differently. But I can decide how carefully I read an how much attention I give to the page that is in front of me today.

Maybe that is one of the gifts of getting older. You finally begin to understand just how valuable an ordinary day really is.

So I want to encourage you to stop rushing through your life looking for the next chapter so to speak. I want you to notice the people who are here now. I want you to cook the meal, light the candle, sit around the table, have the conversation, say the kind thing, take the picture, forgive that person, and thank God for a day that may look completely ordinary. Because someday, you may realize it wasn’t ordinary at all … you would give ANYTHING to have it back.

We cannot turn the page back.. But while the page is still in front of us, we can choose to read it well.