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When Time Stands Still

Antique Clock Face

I struggle to write on a day like this.
On the only day that is like this.
Anything I might say feels at the same time like it is too much and not enough.
‘Too much’ because sometimes words shouldn’t happen.
‘Not enough’ because no words will really ever be.

I woke up at 4:48 this morning, the very same moment on the clock when Robb called for me all those years ago.

ClockMy grandma used to tell the story of the chiming clock above her fireplace, how it stopped ticking only two times in history: when her father-in-law died, and then when her husband died, each in her home.

Each of those moments, time literally stopped.

At 4:48 this morning, I woke from a dead sleep.  I looked at the clock and whispered, “…no way.”

I’m reminded that all of this is bigger than me.  That the spiritual realm is only a dimension we cannot see.  And that maybe Robb isn’t far away from me at all.

Tricia Lott Williford

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  1. Wow, Tricia! It appears something bigger is at work! Have peace

  2. The Good Book (2 Cor. 1) says that the things we go through can ultimately be used to be a comfort to others. December 23, 1995 began as just another day to me as well, until…5 pm when my 90 year old Dad died. I woke up yesterday morning remembering. I was prepared for the usual emotions for “I miss my Dad” or “I remember when we” did certain things together. But then I read your blog. It triggered a memory I had suppressed for 19 years: The Memory of flying home to NY from Florida [where Dad had passed away] on the morning of December 24. My wife and I had got a bereavement flight, so we couldn’t be choosy as to what airlines, and where our planes stopped. In every terminal we had to stop, instead of the usual bustle in the airport, families were together rejoicing, celebrating Christmas even in a terminal. Every shout of joy and “Merry Christmas” immediately caused the tears to flow. I was thinking, “what right did they have to celebrate Christmas, when Dad was no longer around?” That actually became a means of healing, as did your blog. Thank you for being an instrument of reflection, of the reality that our hurts need to be shared because they are not just our own, even though in reality they ARE just are own. Your blogs are instruments of healing for others, too. Thank you.

  3. Great blog post, Tricia. The Lord bless you and your sons during this Christmas season.

  4. Thinking of you today. Praying for you.

  5. I really do think he is close to you, Tricia, so very close. I think the veil between life and death (which is really life on the other side) is very thin, indeed. Big hugs and prayers for you today.

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