There are three Bradford pear trees on a corner near my home. They are loaded with white blossoms. One of the trees is a little more advanced than the others so the green is overtaking the white. I want to yell, “Wait a little longer, please.”
My grandchildren come to my house. Picture perfect, bows in hair, matching clothes. The older one and I share a secret. We watch. I think of her at that age. She thinks about how much she knows that they don’t know yet. We smile at each other. I want to yell, “Wait a little longer, please.”
I turn into the drive way and see the jonquils in bloom. They will not be here in a few days. I want to yell, “Wait a little longer, please.”
I sit with my friends from the senior center. I glance at each of them and think of the pleasure them give to me. I know one of us will b gone soon, to sickness or death. I want to yell, “Wait a little longer, please.”
The trees are going to change, the girls are going to grow older, other beautiful flowers will take the place of the jonquils, and we seniors are going to go into eternity. By experience, I know I’m still going to like the trees and flowers. By experience, I know I will still love my girls and they will fill me with delight whatever their age.
By faith, I accept death as another natural move forward. As I see change in this world and the continuing beauty that follows, I remember Psalm 116:15 which says that the death of saints is precious in the sight of the Lord. So it can’t be all bad!
But I still say, “Wait a little longer, please.”