Tick-tock's Undertow

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...

We miss you, Ron

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