Bing Bong Bing Bong
We are the happy recipients of a wall-mounted grandfather clock from the den of my parents' home in London recently sold. On each hour it rings out the 16 note tune. It reminds me of many beautiful downtown churches in the city of my birth, and of many happy times answering the call to worship, particularly in the fall, when church schedules geared up again.
Each hour the tune. Each hour the call to worship. Each hour the admonition to give thanks. Each hour the reminder that sand is slipping through our hour glass. Each hour the comfort that our Heavenly Father is master of time, and reserves a place for us where time is no longer a consideration.
For the first while the bongs startled us. Thought to be the phone or an alarm clock. But now the routine and rhythm are setting in as a comfort in our home, and a reminder of happy times spent in my parents' home of earlier days.