Nowadays a minute is a minute and a day is a day and the ones leading up to something exciting feel no longer than any other minute or day. Perhaps I had experienced so few days and minutes as a young man that my sense of wonder could stretch time until it felt misshapen. Perhaps when I’m old, all of life will feel like little more than an instant, and maybe that’s why God’s day is a thousand years. What’s a minute to the man who has all the time?
