Alarm clocks enjoy a reputation of being a necessary nuisance. They certainly were during my high school and college years. Brrrrrrrrriiiiinnng. Another day. Once married with babies in the house alarm clocks were no longer required. Our children came pre-programmed to issue 6 AM wake-up calls. Whaaaaaaaaaaaa. Another day. By the time they reached the slug-a-bed teen years we had been re-programmed for the 6 AM start time. Ahhhhhhhhh. Another day.
Then our grade school aged son decided piano practice was best done in the mornings before school. The notes of his warm-ups from the other room began another day. However, his assigned start to every practice was not the dreary notes of ascending and descending scales. His teacher, one of the church organists, assigned a simple little hymn by Mary Dorn. If our son’s singing was not audible through the wall as he played, the words were clearly audible in my head.
“Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thank you for another day.
May we treasure every moment, as a gift you send our way.
In our coming and our going, see us safely through.
Keep us ever close together, doing that which pleases you.”
Da da da da da da. Another Day. Though I often wake with the words in my head, I miss the music from the other room.
“And sometimes I think about a one-and-a-half-year old child with its baby teeth still coming in, whose days on this earth were so very, very few.” (National Geographic, July 1988, page 53) The author of the article, haunted by that scene as he unearthed the remains of a 4th century town on the Island of..Read More ›
We spent a half week with all nine of the children and the twelve grandchildren. The occasion was our son’s wedding. Tears threatened when the boys, now men, stood as groomsmen for their brother. The struggle of our grandson to stay awake and the relaxed attitude in one of the boy’s suits served to prevent..Read More ›