The bells ring out loud and clear as we drive by the Catholic church downtown. It must be 6 o’clock in the evening. In the small town in Belgium where I spent my first seven years, my family’s life was somewhat regulated by that same sound. The bells would ring for early morning Mass, waking the faithful, and for evening Mass, closing out the work day. Though we were not Catholic, their regular ringing framed the hours.
As February begins, I’m thinking of how I mark time now. People used to keep track of their days and nights according to the sun’s path. But here in northern Indiana, where today marks the first sight of sunlight in two weeks, I use a daily ritual to parcel out the hours. It includes a brisk walk to wake up with Sadie the dog, a leisurely breakfast with an extra cup of coffee to catch up on world and friend news, a midday break for lunch, a late afternoon walk at the park to soak in nature, a half hour of yoga and a later supper. These moments help to delineate the time I have been given. In between, I work, create, write and read. No matter where I am in the world, these are my external clocks.
I also have weekly and biweekly events that give structure to my days: most Thursday nights see me at Constant Spring and Saturday mornings at the Goshen Farmers’ Market, every other Thursday morning I eat breakfast with my friend, Margaret, and her dog, Monday morning is for grocery shopping and Sunday morning for writing.
I’ve also found that major life events help me keep track of time. I can still remember the month and year I forever left my life in Belgium or was fired from my job as an archivist from a Mennonite institution and was left in a lurch with nothing. Or there’s the before and after of my dad’s death. And for all of us, the before and after or since Covid.
I find it useful to have these markers. As I look back, I can assess how I have changed, sometimes how I’ve survived or how I’ve moved on this continuous life journey. It reminds me of how resilient we humans are amidst life’s ups and downs.
The things that I look for most though, as I track time, are nature’s gifts. Yesterday, on the last day of January, beneath the brown and dreary cover of leaves in the woods, I found the tiny sprouts and beginnings of yellow flowers of aconites. These not only tell me what time it is but also point me forward to what awaits ahead.
How do you mark time?