Swimming through Time

How scary can a horror movie be at 30,000 feet? I had wrongly assumed that being sealed in a steel tube and travelling at 500 miles per hour would put all that shaky camera work and suspense in perspective – right? Suffice it to say that I had to ask the cabin crew to please leave my reading light on. So on a more recent trip, I carefully avoided the scary stuff and settled back to watch the latest Richard Curtis’ movie: “About Time”, a light British comedy in the genre of Hugh Grant. This time I had to plead with the cabin crew to keep the lights off. I was moved. Actually, I was a blubbering wreck! 

At face value this movie looked harmless enough. Our protagonist, a young man called Tim, has inherited an unusual family gene. While most of us typically get distinctive noses or ugly feet, Tim’s genetic bequest from his father is the ability to travel in time. In C.S Lewis fashion, this happened by Tim ducking into closets and closing his eyes. He would then re-emerge at some desired event in his family history. 

Tim’s initial jaunts in time are amusing: the opportunity to recapture a lost kiss at a New Year’s party or supply the perfect pick-up line to the beautiful girl. These made me laugh. It was Curtis’ exploration of family life, love and friendship, celebration and grief that really caught my heart and made me wonder:  if we could walk in and out of different chapters of our lives and edit out our mistakes, what would we re-write? Conversely, surveying life’s rich tapestry, would we have the courage to rationalize that some life lessons are only learned in the crucible of pain and loss?

Tim’s father cautioned him not to use his gift for fame or wealth but to live as normal a life as possible every day, but then (and here’s the trick) to relive that day a second time. On the second time around, ignoring all the stresses and strains, one is then free to appreciate all the little things: the kindness of a stranger, the humor in the moment, the simple goodness of being with someone we love and making new friends. 

Tim scrupulously practices this rule but then perfects it when he decides to cut out the “second day.” To simply live every day as if it were his last because, said Tim, “all we can do is our best to relish this remarkable ride and remember that we are all travelling in time together.” The Psalmist had the same revelation when he wrote, “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

I was at the gym later that week in the pool. Taken up with my own thoughts I lost all sense of direction and sailed right into the path of an oncoming swimmer. I eventually resurfaced spluttering my apology, expecting a “you stole my parking space” admonishment. To my amazement, I received the warmest “apology fully accepted” smile, at least that is possible with goggles on and a nose clip. 

I think this encounter was one of the most human moments of my week. I wondered if my new friend had seen this movie and but more importantly, with my head down, filled with my own thoughts, how many moments like this had I missed in my life? I pray that, even though I cannot relive each day, the Lord would help me see every little moment like this one. It’s evident I will miss some, but my hope is he will bring the ones I need to see most to my attention.