Sometime this summer, this old clock stopped ticking.

Actually, it’s not an old clock.  It’s a $5.99 clock from Ikea.

I remember the day it happened.

One of my grands dipped it in the bathtub until the 5, 6, and 7 were drowning.

I dried it off and set it back on my desk, but the ticker was silent.

I guess you could say that sometime this summer, I kinda stopped ticking, too.

I don’t know when it happened.

Maybe I was drowning in funerals (5) and weddings (6) and fun activities (at least 7).

I allowed myself to be silent for awhile.

Today I picked up that clock, wiped off the soap scum, twirled those hands around, and gave it a shake.

 The ticking returned! The rhythm is back!

My clock came back to life!

So I figure it’s telling me to do the same —

dust off the dander, limber up my hands, and breath some life back into small drop.

May the click of ideas and the rhythm of words return.

It’s time.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”  Ecclesiastes 3:1