Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SNAP (05/28/26)
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TITLE: If I Could Turn Back the Hands of Time | Previous Challenge Entry
By Loni Bowden-Horn
06/02/26 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
unravel the hours, and step backward
into that sudden snap of a second—
The world moves too fast, Lord,
and my chest tightens with the weight of it all.
And then—I breathe.
I snap the thread of my racing thoughts,
suspended here, held by Your merciful hand,
caught in the quiet stillness of morning light.
A gilded splinter cuts the dark,
unfolding gently into time,
where I at last remember how to breathe.
There is no rewinding the clock;
the pendulum refuses to swing backward.
Yet the jagged ache of suffering dissolves
in this deliberate choice:
to stop reaching behind
and surrender to the present.
In this singular, breathless heartbeat,
I am held. I am known. I am loved.
My mistakes and deepest heartbreaks
become stepping stones into Your mercy—
a rushing river of grace cutting through
the quiet, wounded places of my soul.
So I let go.
I breathe out the doubt,
I breathe in acceptance.
These snapshots of my grief are no accidents.
They are deliberate, necessary frames,
composed by the Creator
who steps into my fleeting, painful seconds
and anchors them in eternity.
I look back at the film of my life—
the blurry margins, the overexposed grief—
and realize every sudden shift was developing an image.
A portrait of mercy. A record of presence.
Through every scar, a redeeming light shines,
pointing the way to the cross,
binding my aching breath to His everlasting love.
Still, there is a gentle whisper calling me upward,
reminding me to pour my days into the eternal.
My hands shake trying to hold onto it all,
but this life is just a quick snap of a lens.
I release my desperate grip on this world,
placing my fragile heart in the Savior's open palms—
not burying my treasures in a shifting earth that washes away.
That old ticking clock doesn’t terrify me anymore.
It turns instead into a gentle, upward wind,
a breath of grace lifting my chin,
fixing my tear-filled eyes on my future home.
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