Time

I hate clocks!  They have never been my friends.  Call me maladjusted.

Anyone who knows me would say, "Yup, she is always late."  My mom says that I was born on my due date and that is the last time I was punctual.  In kindergarten the most coveted spot to begin the day was the sand pile.  I only got to play in the sand ONCE that year because all of the play stations were first come, first serve.  I spent my mornings in the yucky playhouse.

  I remember when I was 8-years-old walking down the sunny street thinking everything is perfect today except I have overdue library books.  

I was the one who funded all of the parties for the student counsel in high school because there was a hefty fine for being late.  

For a while, when my husband was bishop, I was the church organist.  You know, that person who is there early to play prelude music.  I was always dragging in -- 5 kids in tow -- only 'pretty much' on time for the opening song.  My oldest, Greg, told everyone that the only thing scarier than driving with mom to church was driving with mom to church in the rain.

  This year, our stake president is really emphasizing reverence and the first rule is to be on time for church.  Last week, as I slunked into sacrament meeting the customary 12 minutes late the Relief Society president looked me straight in the eyes and shook her head. Who do you think the stake president is.  You guessed it! 

So, maybe I am maladjusted.  But I have a question ...  

To all those time driven, intense people who are dedicated to their watches: Are there clocks in heaven?  There can't be.  Time is finite and eternity is infinite.  When we get to the other side and everyone is looking at their wrist out of habit, who will be maladjusted then?  Not me!