". . . little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver . . ."

(William Shakespeare's Othello, I.iii.88-90)

Friday, August 17, 2012

The Blink of an Eye

Yesterday my eldest child went back to college. He is a sophomore now! He came home in May and was here for three months and now summer is over. Where did it go?

The day before yesterday that eldest child's dog died. We got her for his 11th birthday. She was here, a part of our family, for 9 years, and now she isn't anymore and never will be again.

I remember a day when my oldest was only 9 and our previous dog died. She had been part of our family for 15 years and my husband's life for 2 years before that. It seems like yesterday that he got her. It has been 11 years since we touched her.

This past Sunday my husband played his last services at our former church. He began as Cantor there in January of 2000, almost 13 years ago, and now that time is done.

My youngest child is about to turn 9. He is the age my oldest was when our first dog died. I know there is going to come a day when I wake up to kiss him goodbye for his first day of college and return to an empty house (or maybe a house with another 9-year-old dog). I know it's going to come in the blink of an eye and so I try to cherish this time. And yet I don't know how. What does it mean to "cherish" one's days? It seems the best I can manage is to live them.

Besides, "cherishing time"--whatever that means--doesn't make it stop. I could wrap each day in a velvet-covered box and tie it with a satin bow and yet time would still do what time does, munching my row of pretty gift boxes like so many dots in a Pac-Man game. And once they're munched, they're munched, and before you know it, the game is over.


AngryBirdsRule! said...

Ah, Cheryl. I so identify with your feelings. The grace of Our Lord is the one thing that is keeping me going these days. Yes, cherishing does me to live them, but I find myself thanking the Lord for the cherished days that I had. In the midst of them, they did not seem so cherished, but now that they are gone, they are indeed jewels. Watching my kids grow up so fast allows me to try to cherish more. So thankful I still have some to hug and love. Thank you for this post. I will read it again and again. And how thankful I am to have had a chance to know dear Shiloh. A dog is a precious blessing from our Lord. Perhaps someday you will be able to get another. I work at a Humane Society and there are so many dogs that are just desperate for someone to take a chance on them and love them.
You are in my prayers, dear friend.

Susan said...

"And before you know it, the game is over."

In the midst of life, dear Cheryl, we are in death. Sin affects our critters and our bodies and our relationships. I'm so sorry for your loss of Shiloh.

But remember something very very important:
When the game is over, it's not over. Jesus lives, and now is death but the gate of life immortal.

Let us also live with Jesus. Since He's risen from the dead, death and grave must soon release us. Jesus, Thou art now our Head.

Death cannot destroy forever. From our fears, cares, and tears it will us deliver. It will close life's mournful story, make a way that we may enter heavenly glory.

Time will march inexorably on. But that just takes us closer to home, dear friend -- a time when we will be with Jesus with no veils dimming His glory, a time when we will be with all His saints [which means we get to be best buds, not separated with a only a computer screen between us], a time when our families are not separated by the miles, a time when all creation rejoices with exceeding joy unmarred by our sin. He will wipe away all tears from our eyes. Death shall be no more.

When "the game is over," we will have everything we ever hoped for.

The present sufferings are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. Even though they hurt now.

Love ya!

Cheryl said...

AngryBirds, Shiloh took such a liking to you, even more than most (and she loved most everybody). She must have been able to tell you were a dog person. We are planning on another dog. A 9-year-old boy just needs one, you know? Maybe in the spring. Maybe before . . . .

Susan, thank you for saying exactly what I needed to hear tonight. :*)

Anonymous said...

Cheryl - your thoughts are so heartfelt - my heart is weeping with you. Weeping with joy that you and your husband raised a son that is Godly and was so well prepared that he managed his first year of college away from home. Weeping with joy that you have a loving household to which he will gladly return. This is without question one of those spells of time when the tick tock of passing moments beats so loudly you can't ignore it. The passing of a beloved pet; the maturation of our children; the closing of one parish door and the opening of another.

Please know that you are not alone. Your sisters weep and yet rejoice with you for we have all, or will, experience these days that too often occur one heaped upon the other.

I must tell you that I was blessed to attend the recent Doxology and without question, the highlight of my weekend was the worshipful music. I thought about introducing myself but decided that you might enjoy time away from your worshipful flock of blog stalkers. Now I regret missing a chance to tell you how uplifting and honest I find your blog. In many ways I find your blog the antithesis of all that I disdain about the blogs of others. I know I can come here and you will be: Straightforward, Revealing, and Merciful and always pointing us toward the Father. Thank You. (I will bring you a bottle of wine in Kansas City to apologize for hiding behind my "Anonymous" apron.)

Cheryl said...

Wow, Anonymous--what kind and beautiful words. I can tell you know exactly what I am feeling. I wish you had introduced yourself at Doxology! I am so flattered by your comments about my blog and would love to have heard them in person! ;-) I don't know at this point if I will be in Kansas City but you have certainly given me an incentive to make it. If we are ever in such close proximity again please do hang up that apron and track me down!

Leah said...

I think the older I grow I begin more and more to understand why Luther called our earthly life "this vale of tears."
Thank you for this post and I also like to thank the commenters for their comforting and truly uplifting additions.