Time bears ...

Because that's not my right, I'll not include a photograph, but I will note what's on my mind. Just a sense; it isn't organized or thought out, so I don't know how I might express it. And as it's my usual most pressed for Time part of the week, very early Sunday morning, I won't write long, nothing profound, couple of minutes and done.

It's about Hal, and that life is something that happens to us for a Time and then breaks our hearts. We realize that we are just creatures, but it's unbelievable how casual and even careless Time can be with our feelings.

As the ten-thirty crowd filed out of church last Sunday morning, a man wearing a facemask spoke to me. It was Hal, then Joan, also wearing a facemask. I was startled, hadn't seen them for ages and, not having been the one who served the Communion wafers, hadn't realized they were there. Hal, grandfather extraordinaire to the Thompsons. Hal Jensen, retired Presbyterian minister, retired military chaplain and USAF colonel. It takes quite an impressive person to make colonel, or in the Navy to make captain, as a chaplain, and Hal was an impressive man. Today is Sunday; yesterday, Saturday, Hal was found to have died in his sleep. He and Joan had probably made plans for yesterday, and for today, and for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years.

Time doesn't care about our plans, or our hopes and dreams and loves, doesn't care who or what we are, bears all its sons away. I'm thinking about a song and a poem

O God, our Help in ages past,
our Hope for years to come,
our Shelter from the stormy blast,
and our eternal Home.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
sufficient is Thine arm alone,
a our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood
or earth received its frame,
from everlasting Thou art God,
to endless years the same.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
are like an ev'ning gone,
short as the watch that ends the night
before the rising sun.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
they fly forgotten, as a dream
dies at the op'ning day.

O God, our Help in ages past,
our Hope for years to come,
be Thou our Guide while life shall last,
and our eternal Home!

And there's part of a poem, from Psalm 90, that our prayerbook suggests for the burial liturgy,

LORD, thou hast been our refuge, * from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made, * thou art God from everlasting, and world without end.

Thou turnest man to destruction; * again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.

For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, * and as a watch in the night.

As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as a sleep; * and fade away suddenly like the grass.

In the morning it is green, and groweth up; * but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.

For we consume away in thy displeasure, * and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation.

Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee; * and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

For when thou art angry all our days are gone: * we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.

The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years, * yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

We have good stuff, and poets and musicians, and psalmists like David, to keep us mindful of what we are, and that we are just creatures, not Creator. None to it helps much when life catches us up short, in fact it doesn't help at all. This isn't about me, but I'm still stunned and it will take Time.

There will always be things we didn't say during Time, and things we will never get to say or ask about. There are billions of us, but still, every time someone dies, everything is changed, new, different. If there's Someone who loves us, created us to love us, in these sudden surprises it seems like there's Something that couldn't care less how we are left feeling. I hope that's not so.

Everyone is different, but I don't like surprises.