8 Weeks

8 Weeks

Of asking why,

Lord, did Tuesday have to die?

8 weeks of tears oft shed,

each a memory of things she said

or did - we loved

to see or hear.

8 weeks of broken hearts,

trying to mend - yet still afar

it seems so odd, this loss we grieve.

It makes no sense but we believe.

You love her Lord, even more than we

and so we beg, you’ll help us see

you weaving our pain for something good.

To bring some meaning, some things understood.

For this we pray, that with each day

You’ll help us see and know your love,

for Tuesday’s life

Knows no bounds and will suffice . . .

Until we see her once again

all face to face in your embrace