It's quiet save the sound of the clock's tick-tock!
Sometimes we wish for more 'bloom' as it fades
until we mourn the loss of one who never got the chance to fully fade or even begin to fade!
Tonight the ache of mourning is raw as we enfold a widow in our congregation
in tears and prayer...
Growing old does not stop
Until God wills it so
The momentum of tick and tock
A profound undertow
Where choice and circumstance
Adeptly intertwines
As we grapple with what God grants
While youth its bloom resigns
To make each moment count
Is more than a cliché
They are the sparkles from a fount
That never hits replay
Therefore we ought to prize
The gift of growing old
And kindly, humbly recognize
Time slipping through our hold
The ache for those we love
Who have gone on before
Keens a scared awareness of
What was and is no more
Where, as the seasons pass
We come to realize
How swift the sand runs through the glass
That drains the fountain dry
Dear Lord, bless those who mourn
For friend or family
Lord, heal the heart broken and torn
By sorrow’s agony
Awake in us hope’s boast
As by your grace we go
And teach us how to make the most
Of tick-tock’s undertow
© Janet Martin
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering,
for He who promised is faithful.
Heb.10:23
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