A young tanned and bubbly teenager in a wheelchair requested to interview me for his school paper. To answer his questions was no-brainer until he asked: “What do you do for fun?”

“For fun?!! I do not have time for fun! I am a minister! What do you mean by fun?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to insult you! I thought everybody has fun! Do you have any hobbies?” Poor boy was embarrassed. “May be you like to collect stamps or play chess? Do you like music?”       

“I used to do all these, but as soon as I became a minister, I quit.”

Two years after I became hopelessly fatigued. All tests were good, so the doctor suggested that I do something for fun.

“You too?!” I was disappointed: no pills, no diagnosis. Finally, I decided to follow the recommendation of my doctor and set up time for myself, entering into my phone calendar an unusual for me alarm under the name “Lydia’s Time” for every Friday from 5-6 PM. As I was advised, this time should be purely my time without any exceptions.     

One day I promised to take my mother shopping. We just entered the store when my alarm went on. My heart jump started. I looked at the phone” s screen and saw: “Lydia’s time.”

“Do you have to go again?” My mother’s voice was saturated with fear.

 “I don’t remember that I had anything for tonight, I am sorry. Let me see.” I was looking at the screen in horror: what if I’m missing something important? And why did I save it as “Lydia’s time”?

My mother anxiously waited, mirroring the intensity of my struggle on her face – she just started shopping. “Is anybody in the hospital again? Do you have to go? You never have time for me!”

All my thoughts were circling around one problem, where is that place and would I make it if I leave now? I looked at the phone and then back at my mother, again at the phone screen and back at my mother, still not recollecting what my alarm was about. Suddenly it hit me – the doctor - and I grimed: “Oh, I know! This is the time that I set aside just for myself! The doctor told me that I should start taking care of myself. I scheduled an hour a week just for myself, and my first hour started 15 minutes ago. I completely forgot!”

“Ah, OK! You scared me! So let’s go  shopping.” My mother’s voice moved from “panicky” down to “nothing to worry about” level.

“But mom, that was suppose to be the time just for me!”

“Of course it is just for you, who else?! Let’s go shopping! What a relief…”

From now on I keep my personal time on my calendar as “God’s time.”

How do you call yours?