When I was young, I always dreamt of having superpowers. Which young kid never did? I would imagine myself teleporting, apparating from one place to another. I would imagine myself having superhuman strength, twisting off even the tightest of jar lids for my mother.
But one favorite of mine is that imagining myself being able to freeze time. I would imagine myself in white and golden robes, an hourglass much larger than I am at my side, ticking off sands like crystals one second at a time, I would imagine myself letting the device rest on its side, halting the downpour of the crystalline powder, and watch as the universe cease its motion. I thought, maybe that way I could have an infinite amount of time to get home so that Papa won’t get mad at me for staying late outside. Maybe that way I would have an endless number of seconds for me to catch that Gobstopper piece that slipped through the hands of my crush plummeting to the ground.
Or maybe I could turn the hourglass device bottom’s up so that I could go back through time, maybe to correct the mistakes I have made, or to try to save people, or to savor a moment over and over again. And I liked that idea: I would be Father Hour – a superhero who freezes time to do his job of saving people and correcting mistakes.
What I never realized back then is that such power exists, and that it doesn’t need one Father Hour to harness that power, because that power is an innate capability of all being.
It is the ability to give chances.
“For you, a thousand times over.”
The greatest mistake people commit in love is that we deny to give people chances. We are too afraid of the probable consequences of the risk we have to take. When the pay is not even a fraction of the stake, our selfish desire takes over and wagers for a bigger win. When we gain little from giving people chances, we refuse to give them any chance at all.
But dear, chances are what make loving worth it.
I wonder about the explorers who cast their sails to the end of the world; what terror they had felt when they set with the fear of falling out of the edge of Earth, and what amazement they had when they discovered, instead, that the world is without edge and that there are places people could have been a long time ago – places that they only see in their dreams – until they have been provided a chance?
Chances are, as you might know it, not coincidences, happenstance, or sheer luck. Chances don’t have anything to do with time. It is a gift that is given out of love.
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When we give chances, we give people another shot at correcting mistakes that have been made, or an opportunity to let people save themselves, or let others savor a moment over and over again. And it is a beautiful idea: that Father Hour will no longer be necessary since we love according to our Father, the God of infinite chances – who saves people and corrects mistakes. Because when we give chances, we can never really lose plenty, but there is much to gain.
“For you, a thousand times over.”
If we had to give chances, we have to give it over and over again. Sometimes people will make the same mistakes, but that is exactly the point. Chances are hopes, a hope for redemption, a hope for vindication, a hope for starting over.
Hope is absolute and infinite, and so, chances are.
Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity implies that the faster you move, the slower time passes for you relative to your surroundings, and eventually stopping at the speed of light.
Apparently Einstein’s theory does not apply to people being in love: for as long as I can give, and be given chances, time will stop for me.
