A Sound Of Ticking

The mantel clock was running slow.
The Monday morning winding was not lasting the whole week any longer.
The chimes were sounding sluggish.
I found myself saying, Come on, in my head, as if the chimes could hear me.

I had found a wonderful older gentleman who fixed my clocks.
He even came to our house to clean and service our grandfather’s clock.
He has retired.
I needed to find someone else.

After some searching, I found someone in the place of Amish buggies.
I remember the first time I set foot on the pristine property.
Every flower garden was breathtaking.
Every building, including the barn, would have made an excellent photograph.

After leaving my clock for quite a few weeks, I got the call that it was ready.
I missed seeing the clock on the mantel.
I missed hearing it chime.
I was so glad to put it back where it belonged.

The mantel clock was fine for a couple of months.
Then it began to do the same thing it had done before.
I just decided to live with it.
If truth be told, I did not want to be without my clock again.

My husband bought the mantel clock for me when I was expecting our first baby.
I was there when he ordered it.
It was so hard to wait for the clock to arrive.
I was still working at the time, since it was months before our baby was due.

The one day that I did not ask my husband if the clock arrived, was the day it came.
He even ordered a brass plate, on which our family name and the date were engraved.
The brass plate is on the underside of the back panel.
We know it is there, but it is not visible to anyone else.

That mantel clock is special to all of us.
So many times we looked up to see the time.
So many nights after we went to bed, we knew the time by listening to the chimes.
The faithful mantel clock has chronicled many years of our family life.

I was actually feeling sorry for the mantel clock, as if it had feelings.
The grandfather’s clock in the dining room was chiming with vim and vigor.
The mantel clock was lagging behind.
Even the time was off by about five minutes.

The Monday morning winding was only lasting until Friday before I had to wind it again.
I wondered if I was doing damage to the clock by winding it twice a week.
It was time to find a new clock repair shop.
I did a search.

I found a shop about 25 minutes away.
I called on a cold, January day.
The man was very nice and told me that it would be a few months before he could fix my clock.
I did not want my clock sitting in a clock repair shop when it could be on my mantel.

He added one more thing.
I give my customers a number, he explained.
When your number comes up, I will call you and you can bring your clock to me then.
It may be about three months before I am ready to repair your clock, he admitted.

I gave him my name.
He gave me my number.
I put it as a note in my phone along with his contact information.
I did not think about it.

The chimes began to sound even more sluggish.
I made a mental note to call the clock shop to check on my number.
Before I could call them, the shop called me.
The man, whose name is on the sign, called and left a message.

I am ready to repair your clock, if you still want to leave it with me.
The call came three months from my original call.
I liked the way he did things.
I took the clock off the mantel and put the winding key in a plastic bag and drove to his shop.

I found the shop right away.
A charming, brick row home was converted to his clock shop.
I walked inside and loved the sound that was all around me.
The ticking of clocks surrounded me.

Some clocks on the walls could be purchased.
Behind the front room was his workshop.
I could see a clock on his workbench.
My mantel clock will be next, I thought.

He turned the hands of the clock so that it would chime.
It is sluggish, he said.
I again felt sorry for my mantel clock.
It seemed to be lagging behind the other clocks that were all around me.

Let me try something, he said as he walked back to his workshop.
He came back with a can of WD-40.
He pointed the long red nozzle to a few areas in the back of the clock.
Let’s see if this works, he said.

He turned the hands so that the clock would strike an hour.
It was not sluggish.
It sounded like it did when my husband first bought it for me.
This clock just needs a little cleaning, he said tenderly.

He showed me the back of the clock with the tiny screws on the workings.
I just oiled these three, he said pointing, and you can hear the difference.
Every one of these little dots are tiny screws that need to be oiled.
Each one you see here, has another one on the other side that needs oil as well.

I will have to take the clock apart to oil and clean all the workings.
After that you should be good as new, he said to the clock as he patted the top.
He acted as if clocks have feelings, which made me smile.
It will be about two to three weeks and I will call you to come and get your clock.

It sounds so wonderful in here, I said to him.
I think so, he said.
You’d be amazed how many people do not like the sound, he continued.
They ask me how I can stand the ticking, he told me, and I say, ‘What ticking?‘

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)

My number came up and the man called about repairing my mantel clock.
One day, our number will come up.
One day, it will be our last day.
We have to be prepared.

Our days are numbered.
We have to be wise as to how we spend the time that we are given.
Only God can give us a heart of wisdom.
Only God knows the number of our days.

I did not walk around thinking about my clock repair number.
I do not walk around thinking about the number of my days.
God knows.
I just want to make those days count for Him.

We all have a number that only God knows.
The clock ticks for us all.
That is not a depressing thought, rather it is an exciting one.
We have the opportunity to make Him known throughout the days He gives us.

A ticking clock is a reminder of the brevity of our life.
The ticking sound may be a source of fear to some.
The ticking sound may be a source of comfort to others.
Time passes for us all, so what are we going to do with our days?

It matters.