Seasons of Change
If I had to write a three-point sermon about why August is wonderful, it would go like this: sunflowers, swimming, sweet corn. In August, especially the beginning, summer feels like it will last forever; we all get complacent and think that fall will never come...
... but then, I spot the first aster blooms and a sprinkling of yellow leaves on the cottonwood tree, and responsibilities that were tiny on the horizon suddenly loom larger and then are here. The garden becomes a neglected jungle as we adjust to new priorities, and our dog gives us sad eyes as we pack up each morning for a day away from home. Time is regimented into strict daily and weekly rhythms instead of the day-by-day flow we had enjoyed. The transition is not easy. We are tired.
In the spring, our life seems to explode outwards as the weather warms. We spend more time outside and pick up projects that we had left behind or dreamed of all winter. During the summer, we roam and explore and work and play in an even wider radius, enjoying physical and mental freedom from the tethers of the academic year. Now, as fall approaches, our lives begin to slowly contract again, focusing inward as different responsibilities demand attention. It becomes more important to have the entryway tidy, a meal plan in place, and intentional connection during the time we're together. We stay inside more often and don't wander too far, because music lessons must be practiced, homework completed, and bedtime moved earlier.
The seasonality of life can be hard. Just when it seems that we've got something figured out, things change. Maybe the kids grow into new challenges and opportunities, we are stretched at work, or a health problem derails us for a while; whatever it is, it can feel like we are constantly pivoting and problem solving. When I get this feeling, I like to think about my grandma and others who have gone before living through similar seasons of life, in light of Ecclesiastes:
Ecclesiastes 1:9-11
This passage can be read as depressing, but, to me, it is encouragement. Our lives are brief, and any efforts to bring permanence are futile. Life ebbs and flows, cyclical in nature, and we continually learn the lesson of holding onto temporary things loosely. Instead, we trust the Creator, resting in his goodness, and know that there will be a time when all will be made clear. God has "set eternity in the human heart," and "everything God does will endure forever, nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it" (see Ecclesiastes 3:11-14). Blessed assurance!
