Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
"There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to rebuild.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance."
Solomon speaks of the spread of times and experiences, but rarely can we pause and live in one season at a time. It's like a Tennessee Spring with snow on the buttercups.
Life mixes the polar opposites, and we feel the strain of the overlap.
Life mixes the polar opposites, and we feel the strain of the overlap.
The wisdom is finding the constancy, sovereignty, and sufficient grace of God through every mixture of moments.
One of my seasons: a mixture of birthdays and last days
It's a strange walk from my house to hers.
It's a strange walk from my house to hers.
There's a solemn transition in the middle of the yard.
The powdered snow intensifies the cold and marks a simple path.
I walk out of a house of noise and celebration
into the door of last moments, a struggle, a good-bye.
I'm numb and weary from the split of emotions,
but thankful to still see the absolute Joy in both.
Joy is a gift of the Spirit.
It covers over every emotion.
It sustains us in all moments.
It is constant.
Joy is a gift of the Spirit.
It covers over every emotion.
It sustains us in all moments.
It is constant.
As Solomon described, there is a time for all of these.
But, I'm standing in the intersection of two different seasons,
back and forth, living two extremes at once.
But the most pronounced step is the one I won't take, yet.
My Mema will soon.
A step of healing.
A step to Jesus.
My yard to hers holds a separation,
but the gift and promise of Life are the sustaining Joy in both.
My hope for my children's tomorrow
is just as reliant on God's Promise
as is my hope for Mema in every labored breath.
We all cling to it, and we all depend on it.
Though this breathing and moving appear to be life,
none of us have stepped into its fullness, yet.
My steps back and forth are strange.
The snow marks my path,
But in a matter of time these footprints will melt into yesterday.
Her struggle for this life will end
and Heaven will be her home,
and Life will truly begin.
That is the Joy.
That is the Joy.
May God receive all thanks and Glory for His gift of Life through Jesus Christ.
Days later
My path melted.
My Mema is home now.
And I would say today is a time to grieve
but also to dance.
Unseasonal Joy
but also to dance.
Unseasonal Joy
