People refer to their right-hand man as being important. Welp, I disagree. If I had a right-hand man, he wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as my left-hand man. Why? Because I wear my watch on my left hand.
One of my essential WR prep purchases was a new watch. I had a feeling my trusty $12 waterproof camp watch wouldn’t make it through the 11 months, so I did my research and ordered this durable, yet oooh-so-stylish one online.
It came in the mail yesterday (Merry Christmas, Darc) and I was pumped to try it on. I’m a loyal watch wearer, and this baby will be going through a lot with me. I look at my watch constantly – even for answers it doesn’t provide. It’s my left-hand man.
When I put it on and set the time, the first thing I noticed was the second hand. It’s so loud. This thing would not be kosher in the quiet section of the library. I’m wildly aware of the seconds that pass. This is new for me.
This sounds crazy cheesy, I’m aware, but I want to value the seconds. Seconds compile. Seconds craft minutes, then hours, then days that add up to life. The time given to me – even in doses of that little, loud red hand – is sweet. Sweet enough to be measured in seconds.
I’ve been learning about trust, reading Psalm 31 every morning this week. Time is something I have difficulty trusting the Lord with. Can’t help but think that this loud, second-centric watch of mine will be a purposeful reminder.
Cheers to left hands and loud reminders,
Darcie
