Time is a funny thing.  You don't really sense it as it happens; you can only perceive it by looking into the past or future.  Today I had a show at the Bridgton Health Care Center, a local nursing home three miles from our house.  They have us in four times a year, and we have been doing shows there for at least 25 years.  That makes 100 shows in that one dining room / activity hall, give or take a few.  It almost feels mundane or insignificant many times when I perform there, but today was different.

It started when Dea, the activities director, told me this would be the last time we would be working together; she is retiring in December.  I congratulated her, and she thanked me for the positive response.  She told me about all the people who have told her stories of loved ones who retired and died within months.  Really?  How do people think this is even remotely an appropriate response when someone retires.  I'm sincerely happy for her.  But that's not what I'm wanting to write about right now.

Dea is someone we have worked with frequently, but, since it's always just us coming in, setting up, performing and leaving, we don't really know her.  The only 'interactions' I've ever had with her outside of the health care facility is when I see her going for her daily walk and occasionally wave to her. Yet, somehow, her news or retirement made me feel a little sentimental.  I remember the time we invited a new family in the area to join us for a show we were doing at the health care.  It was one of the first things we ever did with the Bourque's, now our absolute best friends in the world.  I remember the time we did a show there and had a long conversation with an elderly lady from our church who was getting tired of waiting for the Lord to call her home.  Weeks later I got the word that she had died.  I remember bring my class there and friends from the church came to see them perform.  One of the family's preschool aged daughters is now in my 8th grade class.  I remember the scar my machete juggling put in the activities hall ceiling.  I remember meeting former students there who are now employees.  Where did the time go?

So the show itself went on, and it was pretty good for having spent the last two days at an out of state teachers' convention (SNORE!).  After it was over, there was a young nurse there that I overheard a coworker call "Derick".  Suddenly I recognized him.  He was the little boy who lived next door when we first moved to Bridgton.  He was just this little toddler.  His family moved across town when he was probably a preteen, and - as illogical as I know this is - still assumed he was about 12 years old.  Now he's an adult man working at the health care.  What a nice guy!  And he is so good with the patients.  Where did the time go?

Dea told me that her replacement in the activities department would be Linda Fifield.  This is really good, as we have known Linda for 27 years.  Early on in our ministry she played a hugely important role.  We were just getting started and looking for more gigs.  she said - I still remember the evening perfectly - "you know, Jesus said, 'Knock and it shall be opened unto you,' Maybe you need to do some knocking.  Why don't you intentionally call places and ask them to consider having you in for a show."  This totally picked up the pace of our bookings, and it's an approach we return to still today when things get slow.  Since that talk with Linda, we have never had a single month without at least one gig (usually more).  Not a single month without a show since 1987.  Where does the time go?

This afternoon I had another show in Casco, Maine.  Rose, our 12 year old, stayed home to work on homework and my wife Sue was at a teachers' convention of her own.  Shows, homework, schools, parenting... I suppose that's where time goes.  I hope that, as time moves on,  Linda will do an excellent job in her new role, I hope Dea has a great retirement, I hope Derick continues to serve the folks at Bridgton Health Care.