Lost in Time

There’s a new series on television which I’m looking forward to seeing. It deals with time travel, and an attempt by the main characters to, (I assume) change the course of history. (As I implied I haven’t seen the first segment yet). Of course, I have watched similar stuff in the past. 

There was one starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour which included the far-fetched concept of thinking one’s self into the past. Then there was H.G. Wells, “The Time Machine.” Now that was a movie, (and given Rod Taylor had the convenience of an actual time conveyance, it was so much more believable than the former movie to which I alluded. And who can forget, “Back to the Future” featuring Michael J. Fox and his souped-up DeLorean. 

Albert Einstein theorized that if mankind ever found a way to travel at or near the speed of light, (186,000 miles per second) it might be possible to travel back in time. However, I’m convinced that the only Master of time is God, Himself. After all, who else has ever made, (and substantiated) the claim to be the ‘I AM’ of all generations? The omnipresent One. The Creator of the Universe. King of kings and Lord of lords. The Savior of the world. 

There’s a popular adage which assures us that “You can never go home.” And I think the implication is similar to the subject to which I am referring tonight. (Yes, as I write these words it is very much ‘tonight,’ for as I glance at my lower right screen for verification, it is 1:54am). But to be sure I don’t agree with that well-worn phrase at the beginning of this paragraph. For you see, I’m convinced that “going home” is the only manner in which God has afforded us to travel in time. 

I mean, there are any number of ways to “go home.” For any number of movies have featured segments in which one of the characters rings the bell of their childhood home, and when the current occupant opens the door, he or she asks whether they might take an unguided tour of the domicile. And, of course, unless we have lost our cognition to age or infirmity, we have our memories. And then there are the dreams which come in the night seasons.

Speaking of traveling in time, and one of the very few practical, (though admittedly insufficient) ways which we have been given to do so, over the years a precious young Jewish lady has invaded my thoughts on a recurring basis. Her name was Jane. (Well, to be sure, her birth name is a bit more complicated and more difficult to pronounce). As I recall she had Russian roots and had lived in Israel before immigrating to Manhattan, USA. 

At any rate, Jane was a student in the first course I had the privilege of teaching at a nearby university. Among all of my pupils in my first class, I recall names like Ashley, and Joanna and… Jane. There was this one particular episode when I asked Jane to open in prayer. Well, I can tell you that God showed up, and that dear girl manifested one of the spiritual gifts, and I assure you her message had quite an impact on this professor and her fellow students.

Speaking of time, it occurs to me that a full decade has come and gone since I last stood in that expansive classroom, and a full half century since I attended that same prestigious school whereof I speak. And it is interesting to consider that in the three years I was privileged to be a member of the faculty, more students sat in my classrooms, than were members of the student body at that time I attended there. It is poignant to consider that neither the classroom, nor the building that housed it is still in existence. They say you can’t stop progress, as in the past several months a new five story educational edifice has assumed its place. 

But for all that has transpired in the seven years since I have been away from the university, I have never forgotten this very singular young lady.

Over the years, I made a couple attempts to contact Jane. I had an old email address for her, which included a ‘V’ word, (which I won’t divulge here) but as I recall, the message came back undeliverable. Tonight I was looking over my professional portfolio, and discovered samples of some student papers which I’d saved, and (you guessed it) one of the papers bore my young friend’s first and last name.

Did I mention I had forgotten the spelling (and pronunciation) of Jane’s surname? (Well, I did). Having suddenly been armed with this additional information, it seemed reasonable to investigate the possibility Jane S. might be found on a particular social media site which I have been known to frequent. 

I am happy to report that I had no sooner typed the young lady’s name in the search feature, than her moniker (and the face that goes with it) appeared out of the morass of one billion subscribers to this website. And not only that, but it appears Jane is one of a kind; as she was the only party which bore a similar name. 

And oddly enough, I discovered that three of my eight hundred plus social media friends share a common friendship with both Jane and me. Jane had been ‘hiding in plain sight’ the entire time!

And indeed, she was the same old Jane I remember, since the byline on her page read as follows:

“A Jewish girl who's heart has been forever captured, and set free by God.”

Leaving her page I returned to my writing, but curiosity got the better of me, and it was not long before I ‘traveled’ to her page again, and much to my satisfaction I found that my friend, Jane, has already accepted my friend request. (I left a small note that I would contact her after the sun comes up. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance). 

Time travel? Well, not exactly. But if anyone tells you that you “can’t go home again,” 

…don’t believe them!

   By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 43. Copyright pending

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