To Every Season

To everything there is a season,

 and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die...

                                                                 Ecclesiastes 3             

 

                                                                 

Ecclesiastes 3 has always been one of my favorite passages.  It is my reminder everything has a time; everything changes.  There will always be good times   and there will always be heartbreak.  The trick is to find peace and the grace in both.  I can't say I am always successful in either the searching
 or the finding.  

  This time last year, I was filled with excitement and anticipation of the arrival of my first grandson.  I was hurriedly trying to tie up all the loose ends at school and preparing to leave when the call came.  Our little Wyatt took his time, and after a bump in the road, he arrived beautiful and with all his fingers and toes.  He was and still is such a blessing.  He makes my heart smile.  It is hard to believe he is going to turn one in just over a month.

Last year we awaited a birth...this year we are awaiting a final goodbye.   My dad, as I have been told by hospice, is at the end of his life.  Though he was taken from me three years ago by dementia, I would be lying if I said I am ready.  My brain tells me it is his time; he has lived an amazing long life, filled with adventure, but my heart is aching.  He didn't always choose the easy road, but he accepted his lot and never looked back.  I always thought the song "I Did it My Way" was talking about Daddy.

I've shared my dad's favorite piece of advice here often.  Whenever there were worries and fears, he would say, "you've got to put one foot in front of the other, and walk the path put in front of you".  I'm trying.

Easter, I spent the morning crying with him and holding his hand.  It was the first time he knew I was his daughter in three years.  It is only now I realize this may be the first time I ever truly experienced Easter.  And maybe, this is where grace has delivered me.

I attended an event featuring Ann Lamont last weekend.  Though I've read so many of her books, I was on the edge of my seat listening.  I forgot there were over eight hundred people in attendance.  I felt as if she was speaking to just me, and I didn't want to miss anything.  I had already read so many of the stories she told, but I thirstily drank in every word.  Somewhere in the middle, maybe near the end, she used the words "stop and be present".   I was transported back to my dad's room Easter morning.

I was so afraid as I walked down the corridor to my dad's room.  I walked to the foot of his bed, and he said, "it's my daughter, the best gift"; tears ran down his sunken cheeks.  My fear left.  The next few hours, I sat holding a ninety eight year old hand scarred by both age and life.  A hand that had held mine both physically and metaphorically for so many years.  It was my time to hold his hand.  I didn't fuss over him.  I didn't straighten he bed linens.  I simply sat and held his hand...I was present.

"I do not understand the mystery of grace--
only that it meets us where we are
and does not leave us where it found us."
                     Anne Lamont