Everybody has the same number of hours in a day. The same number of minutes. The difference is how we choose to use those minutes.
I could choose to meander around the web, browsing semi-interesting articles on subjects I find fascinating, I could sit on the sofa playing computer games or watching TV, I could walk to the park to fly a kite, and I could focus intently on schoolwork, for once.
Over the last few weeks, I decided to focus on schoolwork. It was incredibly stressful, so while I was studying I didn't devote any time to blogging, or even reading blogs. (My Google reader log has expanded to over 150 unread posts.)
And I guess I got a lot done. But I still have a lot left to do, including finishing a project well past its deadline. And there's a lot I didn't get done--my grandfather passed away just two weeks ago (inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon), and I wasn't able to attend the funeral. He was 91, and I've seen him only once in 8 years. And I think that has been a blessing, that I didn't see him deterioate with Alzheimer's until he couldn't recognize anyone, that I didn't see him go blind, or wither away as he did in the last few months.
And as I sit here thinking about it, I feel the necessity of da'wah bearing down upon me. At times I know it's hard enough just worrying about myself, and what I will be held to account for on the Day of Judgment. But when I remember that the Prophet (saws) was not allowed to pray for his uncle, or for his mother... I just don't know what I'll be able to feel about my own parents when their time is up, knowing as I do what might be waiting for them.
Twenty-four hours. One thousand four hundred forty minutes. Time keeps ticking, and I have no shortage of worries to fill it with.