One afternoon when our littlest bundle of personality was small, I handed her a bottle of bubbles. She pulled the wand from the bottle, and soapy water dripped down her hands and slid off the tips of her elbows. Then she blew the best she could. You should have seen her face as bubbles floated in the air! Her hands went up in the air as fragile orbs flew around her and were soon out of sight. She didn’t know which way to turn as she chased one and then another, watching them touch the floor and disappear. That little girl oozed with drippy bubbly excitement. She clapped her hands and danced around. “Bubbles.”
You know, that is what happens to time. The years float on the breeze like bubbles. We reach out, not sure which way to turn or what to do as they fly by. When we try to capture one it is quickly gone. We can’t stop time. We can’t catch it. If we could hold it in our hand, it would soon be gone.
I used to think of each stage of life as another chapter. I guess to some extent it is. But it’s more than that. Each chapter is the beginning of a new book – one that someone else has to write. After I make my last entry, the book will continue as someone else takes up the pen and writes their story on the pages of life. Until that time, I will try to grasp each bubble that comes my way. Each contains a new adventure, or a new opportunity and I don’t want to miss a one.
Kids of all ages like bubbles!