Seasons

Three months ago we traded in the buzz of cicadas and hot summer nights of Southern Virginia for the cool ocean breezes and misty rains of Western Washington. I am now settling into the deep changes that have invaded every corner of my family’s life. New state, new climate, new home, new job, new school, new congregation, new church assignments, new car . . . I still find myself reeling when I step back and take a minute to reflect. Is this really my life now? When did this happen? Who is this “kid mom” driving a minivan?

Back in Virginia, the opening verses of Ecclesiastes 3 were my mantra. Learning to accept and embrace that season of life was the only way I knew how to thrive. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Seasons are a divine reality. Seasons begin and end. Heaven has a purpose for me. “A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.” This life is fleeting. Live purposefully and be mindful. Keep planting. “A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away.”

Now I find myself pausing here, recognizing the beautiful transition we are experiencing. Our Virginia years were in large part my “time to lose.” To lose my husband in a very real way to the demands of a medical residency. To lose parts of myself in the bearing of two children in three years. To lose myself in the demands of caring for those children, day in and day out, largely on my own. 

But the deep friendships I found and relied so heavily on? The personal and spiritual growth I experienced? The trials that ultimately strengthened my marriage and ability to communicate with my spouse? That was my time to get, wholly intertwined with my time to lose.

And now I find myself in a time to keep. A time to keep my husband close, relying on him to be home for dinner and on weekends. A time to keep my two youngest home, to learn and play and explore this new world with them. A time to learn how to keep my oldest close, even as I send him to school each day. A time to rediscover myself and learn how to keep myself while working to meet everyone’s needs. Keeping is comfortable and we are content. So what will I get through this next season? That is up to me.

My takeaway is this. We don’t get to choose our seasons. There are times to lose and times to keep. But getting? That is up to us. We can still get while we lose. We must make the effort to get while we keep. 

Having traded urban city for rural suburb, these words by Rachel Carson are something I want to get. 

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts . . . There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.

Reserves of strength? Infinite healing? Sign. Me. Up. The air here is fresh, the forests are endless, and the Puget Sound is always closer than I expect it to be. In three years we will leave this place and I will probably find myself back at my keyboard, trying once again to put my feelings into words. My hope is that upon reflection I will find myself and my family in better harmony with God and nature. That we can be soothed by quiet evening and close of day, appreciate the fresh newness of another dawn, and find the rhythm that God has in store for us. I can think of no better way to draw closer to Him and to each other.