Milliseconds and Miracles

There are days when I swear time folds in on itself.

I close my eyes for what feels like a breath—and suddenly, thirteen minutes are gone. I blink, and seasons change. A year ends. Another begins. The 20s disappeared like vapor, and now, somehow, we’re halfway through 2025. I don’t know how to make it slow down. I only know that I feel it. The pressure. The pace. The need to be doing something meaningful with all this disappearing time.

It feels like I’m always racing the clock—with a to-do list in one hand and a legacy in the other, hoping I can finish both before the day runs out.

The Weight of Time

I think I first noticed the shift in my twenties—that moment when life started to feel less like a chapter book and more like a treadmill. One season blurred into the next. Milestones I thought I’d hit by now… some came late, some not at all. But time never asked if I was ready—it just kept moving forward.

And somewhere in that forward motion, I started chasing it. I began filling my days with productivity, planning, multitasking, trying to pack my life with impact. But the more I tried to outrun time, the more it felt like sand slipping through my fingers.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” —Psalm 90:12

That verse hits differently now. Not as a countdown. But as a call to presence.

My Morning Rituals (a Love Letter to the Clock)

Every morning, I wake up around 5AM (after battling my snooze button), jump into the shower, make breakfast and prep lunch, open my windows to let the air in, and draw the curtains wide to welcome the light. These little rituals don’t take much time, but they anchor me. Even when I’m rushing. Even when I feel like time’s running ahead of me again.

They remind me that I’m still in my body, still here in this day, and that presence is not measured by speed—but by attention.

“The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.” —Michael Altshuler

How Many Moments Have I Scrolled Away?

Sometimes I catch myself scrolling for “just a minute”… and then suddenly, an hour is gone. It’s not guilt I feel—it’s grief. That time can never be recovered. I could’ve used it to write. To pray. To rest. To breathe. But instead I traded it for pixels and noise.

And yet, even in that, I hear grace.

Because time may be unrelenting, but God is not. He redeems the lost hours. He multiplies the minutes that matter.

“See then that you walk carefully—not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time…” —Ephesians 5:15–16

When Time Slows Down (Or Speeds Up)

Sometimes, time does slow down. Like when I arrive early. When I’m not rushed. When I’m savoring my food instead of eating while distracted. When I went to Jin’s pop-up in LA, I got there early—on purpose. I lingered, breathed it in, talked to fellow ARMY, and gave myself permission to be there. That’s the kind of time I want more of—the kind that feels alive.

And there have been other moments too—split seconds that changed everything. Turning in a study abroad application just before the deadline… and ending up living in France. Making the bus with a few seconds to spare, arriving early to something that mattered. Little miracles, wrapped in milliseconds.

“Life isn’t a matter of milestones, but of moments.” —Rose Kennedy

Soul Insights

1. Time Feels Scarce, But I Am Not Powerless

Even though I can’t control the clock, I can control how I show up in the day. I can start with presence. I can savor, even when I’m busy. The world rewards hustle, but heaven rewards awareness.

2. The Race to Be Productive Is a Spiritual Tug-of-War

I often feel like I need to accomplish something big—leave a legacy, make my life count. But God isn’t measuring me by milestones. He’s asking me to be faithful with what’s in my hands today. That is enough.

3. Routines Ground Me More Than Goals Do

My small daily rituals—waking early, showering, cooking, opening windows—remind me that I’m not just doing, I’m being. They are soul signals, not checkboxes.

4. Missing the Moment Is Easy When You’re Planning the Next One

It’s hard for me to stay present. I’m always anticipating the next task, the next deadline, the next “should.” But sometimes, presence means letting go of what’s next and just sitting in what is.

5. Some of My Friends Just Are—And I Want to Learn That

I admire friends who can exist fully in the moment. No internal clock ticking, no mental checklist. Just being. I want to learn how to live like that. Not to be careless with time—but to be care-full in it.

🌅 Final Thoughts: Time as a Gift, Not a Threat

I still feel it—time slipping, the urgency rising, the pressure to make each day “count.” But maybe it’s not about doing more. Maybe it’s about noticing more.

Noticing the breeze from an open window.

Noticing how the sun hits my coffee mug.

Noticing that I made it to work with five minutes to spare—not late, not flustered, just in time.

Moments like that remind me that time isn’t always running ahead of me. Sometimes, it meets me right where I am. Maybe that’s the miracle.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…” —Ecclesiastes 3:1

Time flies. But maybe, if I stay present, I can fly with it.

Soul Path Insights