Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty-four hours in a day, 7 days in a week, 52 weeks in a year. Time can fly, hang, and stand still. Time, and our relationship to it, seems always the most elusive, the most confounding, the most unrelenting.
We waste it, save it, race against it, and in the end, we are powerless before it. Everything in our lives will happen in its own good time and not a moment too soon or too late. As the only species that demonstrates any awareness of its subjugation to this powerful, undeniable nonspatial continuum, we always seem to be trying to come to terms (usually our own) with it.
Perhaps that is why the concept of an omnipotent, omnipresent God provides us with some measure of comfort. A God we can form some relationship with promises a toehold beyond the tyranny of time, beyond the grip of our absolute limits as mere humans. Our intellects and our imaginations offer a glimpse of what and whom has come before and what has yet to be. But ultimately all we can do is get up each day and live the moments we are given, in the order they are given. And perhaps give thanks for this great gift that is being bestowed upon us.