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When I was five,
I thought my mom was old
And my grandmother – well, yes,
She was ancient, archaic, antique
Just imagine my thinking!
When I was twenty,
I thought my mom was still old
And my grandmother?
Well she was the ageless saint
The one I listened to and heeded
As the answer to the old-fashioned ways
Of my great-grandmother, who
Had went home to be with Jesus
When I was forty,
I thought my mom was quite young
You see… things had changed for me
My grandmother – she was elderly now
Not the ancient, archaic, antique of the past
And, it wouldn’t be long before she’d move away
To her home on high, where Jesus is the light
When I was fifty-six – today
I realized my mom might one day go away
To that home where Jesus is the King
God only knows… how I dread that day
When her heart rests in the One who created
Each grace, each faith… each moment
When I say… Old age, well, you see…
Old age is just a number, not a picture-perfect rendition
The reality is… old age means being closer to that day…
When Jesus takes my hand and leads me into the promised land!
Copyright © Regina McIntosh | Year Posted 2022
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