戴爾·特納/Dale Turner
A commercial flashing on our TV screens these days shows men and women trying to buy a bit of time. It catches the plight of most of us in our hurry-scurry world. “I don't want a 40-hour week,”says Nicholas Murray Butler, former president of Columbia University, “I want a 40-hour day.”
I never cease to marvel at how some people, working with the same number of hours we all have, seem to get so much more done. How do they do it?
For one thing, they, don't squander the bits and pieces of time that punctuate our days. Rather than wasting energy getting irritated waiting for a phone call or a repair person, they capture those moments creatively. They keep tools handy—a pen, a book, a pair of scissors, a needle, whatever.
Clement C. Moore was a teacher of classical languages. In the course of his career, he published a Hebrew dictionary and was a major benefactor of the General Theological Seminary in New York City.
But it is not for the seminary or his dictionary that he is remembered. It is for a set of verses dashed off in 1822 in an hour of yuletide inspiration—verses that he stuffed away as if of no importance.
The magic lines begin: “It was the night before Christmas, when all through the house……”They never brought Moore a penny, but they did bring him immortality.
Such constructive use of time is available to us all. A Seattle businessman carries a briefcase in which he has paper and envelopes for penning letters. In odd moments he keeps countless friendships alive.
A woman I know memorized the sermon on the Mount while commuting. A bedspread in our home was quilted by my mother-in-law who, though extremely busy, found minutes to prepare a beautiful gift full of memories for her family.
Remember, most time is wasted in minutes, not hours. The average person diddles away enough minutes in ten years to have earned a college degree.
Thinking of this reminds me of a verse from my childhood by Julia Fletcher Carney：