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
