Seeing Beyond The Ravages of Time

One of the most haunting experiences we can have in life is to have the sudden realization that a lot of time has slipped by us. In such a moment our mortality is quite real. Ever looked in a mirror to suddenly see that your wrinkles look like a map of the Martian canals?

I had dinner with a dear friend last night. It's not unusual to eat with a good friend but since I last saw her some twenty five years had slipped in, unnoticed. The last time she saw me I had hair, lots of it. Most of it has now fallen out. Time has been better to her than me. When I was at my uncle's funeral last week, I saw my aunt and I saw that time had stolen all of her hair.

Time has a way of stealing more than our hair. It can steal our memory and health. As a hospice volunteer I visit people in nursing homes and one man had lost all his short term memory ability. "Memory II" describes his experience of this. He didn't know who had eaten the dinner I watched him eat ten minutes ago. "Memory I" describes his intact long-term memories of a dear wife and how these memories fill the forgotten void of his present. "Margaret" tells us how much he loved his wife.

As time drags us towards the winter of life we begin to feel the chill winds and long dark nights. "In Nursing Home" a professor friend of mine agonized with his parents in closing their home and moving them to an institution. They felt victimized by the cycles of time. Four days after the longest night of the year, they experienced the Hope and Promise of Christmas. We are promised that there will come a time when we no longer will experience night and will know no pain.

A high school reunion can be a truly disconcerting experience. At one school the oldest classes were seated down in front at the reunion. These classes were always the smallest. The young don't often realize how good they have it. Time has done it's deed. So has the One Who made Easter a reality.

In a world of radical and sudden change it seems nothing is the same any more. "Sentinels" reminds us that some things do go on a long time, giving a sense of security. The everlasting love of God is one of these things.


Memory I

Remembrance of her face,
ignites sweet recognition,
my heart leaping with joy.

Grand treasures from the past,
recalled in pleasing recollection,
bring wealth to my present poverty.

Distant lives from long ago,
uncrowded by today's living,
fill the void of forgotten loss.

Optimism, aureate hope of youth;
permeating timeless wanderings,
gilds ferrous forgetfulness.


What year did you say it is?


Memory II

What place is this?
How long have I been here?
Do they feed me here?

Do they feed me here?
Who are you?
What place is this?

Did I pay for meals?
What year is it?
Who ate my dinner?

Who are you?
Do they feed me here?
Who are you?

Thanks for coming.


Margaret

I went to visit Ned today.
He was in a new room.
It took me a long time to find him.

His memory is not so good.
He thinks he remembers me.
He offered me a chair.

Your picture was on the table.
It was hard for me to pay attention.
Ned remembered your name.

Your smile reached across the years.
Ned was a blessed man.
Your smile is timeless.

Married fifty six years to you, Ned said.
Met you at summer tent meeting.
He remembered it exact.

He thought your picture made in the 30s.
Your halide image froze in time.
I would have guessed this year.

You don’t know me
I arrived six decades late,
I regret my tardiness.

Ned says you've been gone eight years.
His days seem kind of empty.
You will soon be a great grandmother.

Ned’s doing okay, considering.


Nursing Home

The shadows dance on the walk,
a silent requiem for what once was.

Shuffling forward, to the aseptic unknown,
you leave behind myriad memories.

Four decades of joys, tears, laughs;
sold to the highest bidder.

Supper arrives in a plastic tray,
erasing remembrance of Wedgewood.

Leaves fall, exposing the leaden sky,
Autumn has turned to winter.

Is it true, autumn colors really end?
Mercifully, you never did know.

The bitterness of winter has come to you,
wind, uncertainty, the unknown howling.


Christmas comes in winter


Sentinel

Short-lived are the affairs of men,
in mere decades they are lost to memory.

For but a season do we dash about,
strutting our imagined self-importance.

In warming spring, we claim immortality.
Chilling autumn brings mortal reality.

In your sacred forests is shelter;
promising safety from ravages of winter.

For centuries, you have been rooted,
withstanding onslaughts of uncounted years.

Quietly, you stand tall over us,
pointing to a Higher Way of life.

Quiet whispers of your arboreal canopy shout.
He Who was before the foundations of time is.

In Him, the sands need never fail.


High School Reunion

The oldest sit up in front.
There aren't very many there.
The men don't come much any more.

I used to sit far in back, wondering.
Would I ever sit up in front?
It's a long way down there.

Far in the back I dreamed.
Some day I would be in the lights.
Up in front.

The lights are bright here.
I can't find my dreams anymore.
My bifocals aren't so good now.

How did I get here?
It's a long way down here, up in front.
I don't remember coming.


Would you like to sit down?