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