A groan sounded from the corner. “It takes me longer each spring to adjust.”
“Why can’t we skip it?” said a third.
As the stylist cut my hair, I pondered the comments, and found myself in agreement. Losing an hour of sleep every March to gain an hour of daylight makes less and less sense as I age.
I’m not alone.
Somewhere in the wisdom of those who make decisions for everyone else, having an extra hour at the end of the day seemed a great idea, once upon a time. But the fairy tale has ended. Setting our alarms to ring earlier would achieve the same result, and not upset the order of things for everyone else.
My son delivered newspapers at the crack of dawn all through his middle and high school years. Not wanting him to be out there in the dark alone, I walked with him until he grew tall enough to be a formidable foe.
Together we learned that the sun rises as early as four o’clock in the spring. Who knew?
Urban deer love those early hours, often appearing out of nowhere as they seek an unsuspecting garden to plunder.
My son and I enjoyed the quiet. The raccoons strummed sprinklers like harps while the hint of daylight crept over the mountain. Just enough light existed to see where you were headed and yet you could still enjoy the last twinkle of the stars as they withdrew until evening. We didn’t need Daylight Savings Time for that.
God set the sun, moon, and stars in place—the sun to rule by day and the moon and stars to guard the night. He knew how much light we’d need to do what we plan to do. If we need more, or less, we can adjust our awake times. Someone to legislate it is unnecessary.
Psalm 8:3-4 says, “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have ordained; What is man that you take thought of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”
I wonder if God laughs at our attempts to control things. He should.