To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

 

Gather ye Rose-buds while ye may,

    Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles to day,

    To morrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,

    The higher he's a getting;

The sooner will his Race be run,

    And neerer he's to Setting.

That Age is best, which is the first,

    When Youth and Blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

    Times, still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time;

    And while ye may, go marry:

For having lost but once your prime,

    You may forever tarry.

Robert Herrick, 1648

What do I remember most of the years gone by? Taking my boys to our smalltown homeschool co-op. That day we couldn't find the shoes and a bumper sticker ahead of us reminded me God allows U-turns. I remember funny things. A joke, a smile. A friend in the rain, a coincidence to run into each other at that statue on Monument Avenue. It's gone now, torn down, like those old days. But are they gone? They live in my heart with my sons winning awards and that hunting axe and patches for vests and long-practiced songs. I have forgotten most of the other songs and the pop stars who sang them, and why our hair was so big. I wore a white dress and long gloves at my wedding. I got married! I remember the army of bagpipers on that wonderful day. My husband taught me to drink coffee, now I love it. One day Jesus showed up in my life and changed me all of a sudden. I was that and now I am this. My non-believing friend dreamed of Him. Do you know colors swirl around the Messiah that we've never seen before? I have prayed and have been answered. It's a feeling that's hard to describe, somewhere between shock and surprise. To the virgins, to make much of time. I say that even to us, the ladies here in blogland and Jon. I am old, but I have been young. My hair is as white as my wedding dress and I am wise. Wise? I still have so much to learn. Make the most of it. We shall not pass this way again.