As I write this, we are in the waning hours of the third full month of 2007. Astonishing, isn't it? We barely got the Christmas decorations down in time to get out the candy hearts, and now it's almost time to color eggs.

It is important for us to measure our days in as small of increments as necessary. Our time under the sun is severely limited and we need to make the most of every moment, of every hour, of every day. Because when our time here is finished, the decisions we've made, the treasures we've stored up, the person that we are at that moment is the person we take to eternity -- there are only so many ticks in our hearts, then they will tick no more.

We do well to remember that.

Time this weekend was truly well-spent when my baby sister, whom I had not seen for nearly 18 years, pulled up in front of our house, her husband, whom I had never met, and their two dogs, in tow.

Her visit served to remind me of the unfailing tyranny of time in more ways than one.

First of all, the visit was far too short.

Secondly, I can't do all-nighters anymore.

And finally, I still need time to say good-bye. (David and Danett had to make an extra stop on their way out of town because I had failed to prepare for the inevitable good-bye.)

Danett is seven years younger than I am, which made her all of 10 when I left home in 1972. Mom and Dad pulled up stakes in 1978 and moved themselves and Danett, albeit reluctantly, to South Texas. Suffice it to say, I didn't know my little sister all that well, nor she me.

Still, my anticipation of her visit was palpable. When Danny said, "I think that's them" Saturday afternoon just as the clouds opened up with precious rain, I didn't think twice about running out in the storm to wave them down. Therefore, my first vision of my little sister in 18 long years, was of her rolling down her window, hollering, "Don't get wet! Don't get wet!" in her inimitable southern drawl.

It didn't take long to settle into comfortable conversation over a late dinner. And though she and her husband had been driving all day, we stayed up until the wee hours, getting to know one another. We picked up right where we left off the next morning.

Lisa and Patrick, families in tow, came by through the course of the day to see their "Aunt Danett," making a busy day even busier, increasing our joy. At day's late end, knowing that I had to be up and ready for work early the next morning, Danett started to say, "We'd better say good-bye now..." and I had to stop her. I had done nothing to prepare myself for the inevitable good-bye. She and David had miles to go to their next stop in College Springs, Iowa, to see my brother, Dave, then travel on to Illinois to see David's mom. (David only just returned from his tour of duty in Afghanistan, and he has many friends and relatives anxious to see his smiling face once again.)

Time is the currency of life. In large part, we decide how we'll spend it and what we'll gain or lose in the expenditure. We received good exchange for our currency this past weekend. We learned about the life of a canine border patrol dog and saw for ourselves how well he is handling retirement. We rediscovered the inexhaustible exuberance unique to Labrador retrievers and visited far-off lands through the eyes and experiences of someone else. New perspectives were investigated and conversations ranged from the mundane to the highest heavens.

Danett, blond in her youth and remaining so now with a little help from Lady Clairol, was delighted to learn that her elder sister, always a natural brunette, is in reality, blonder than most.

When I shared my hamster dilemma with her and David, they both collapsed in fits of laughter. (The news report said that a virus, causing headache and flu-like symptoms, was going around and it was being spread by small rodents, such as hamsters and mice. The owner of two hamsters, I was immediately concerned and called the radio station for more information, which they were happy to share. Even though they explained everything very carefully to me, I was still confused, and finally asked plaintively, "But how can you tell if a hamster has a headache?")

Laughter may be the best medicine, but you cannot underestimate the healing that comes from a burden shared. For Danett and me in particular, our shared upbringing in a chaotic home was more similar than not and our journey through it into the women we are today much the same.

Time measures our lives, from the moment of birth until the final breath, whether in moments, days, weeks, months or years. How we spend it is largely up to us. How we spend it will, in the final analysis, determine how we will spend eternity.

Will we take the time to seek out the things of God in our limited time here? Will we seek him out with our whole hearts, so that he may be found? Or will we only know about him, not really knowing him, thereby remaining unknown to him? If we open our eyes, we will see him -- in the mundane moments, in the laughter, in the tears and one day -- in the highest heavens.

"For he says, 'In the time of my favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you.' I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation." 2 Corinthians 6:2 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven:

Hourglasses