The house in which we now live is surrounded by two churches, a synagogue a preschool, a high school, a court house and the general downtown area. There is a rhythm to the days and weeks that comes from living in close proximity to institutions. The hum of cars in the morning as children are dropped off at the day school. The 3:30 buzz on a Friday afternoon as high school students bolt for the weekend. Shabbat services Friday evenings at the temple. Live music drifting up the street on First Friday. Sunday morning 10:15 call to worship for the Episcopalians at St. Mark’s.

It is the bells at the First United Methodist Church that cause me to pause. The bells announce the time every hour on the hour from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm. Westminster chime followed by a pause that is almost too long to hold your breath through, then the bells toll the hour.

Except these bells are one minute early.

Every day they ring just one minute shy of the hour.

My husband and I like to joke that “Gladys” (the name I have given the imaginary bell ringer who lives in the tower) is off her meds and just can’t get it together. A shift in my thinking however, has me thinking that maybe WE are the ones who don’t have it together and the early minute is Gladys’s way of giving us a second chance.

This minute is a pause. An inhale, a held breath, a bitten tongue. This minute is a moment to tread lightly, to choose our words carefully, to look closely. It is a time machine, a do over. It is the answer for all of the times we have said “I wish I could have the last minute back. I wish I could have worded that differently. I wish I would have REALLY listened, REALLY noticed.” This early minute is a gift.

Today is my birthday and I realized, upon calculating the dates, that I am actually a year younger than I thought.

The last three years have been brutal and soul crushing and somewhere along the way, I lost a year all together.

Today I found it.

Today I was given an amazing gift. I was given a bonus year, a redo, a do over. I was given an opportunity to learn from the past and move forward in a way that shows gratitude for this gift.

I am going to do my best to be present in this next year.

To be patient and kind with those around me.

To extend grace and gratitude to those who may not deserve it but need it more than I can know.

To pause. To reflect. To bite my tongue.

Tomorrow, and for the 364 days that follow I will smile when Gladys rings the bells early and will be thankful for my second chance and my extra trip around the sun.

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