Nothing remains the same. “To everything there is a season.”
(Eccl. 3:1, KJV)
Perhaps I think
too much about death. But death is only a threshold, not a destination. Death
is a doorway, not a termination. For a Christian, it is something… not to be
feared, or shunned, but to be greeted with an understanding nod, and perhaps a
whimsical smile.
My wife worked in
hospice care for a year, and closely associated herself with those dear souls who
were actively “crossing the Jordan.” She excelled in her work, and surprised me
with her ability to watch these precious souls deteriorate, and ultimately
cross their final river. She was the last face many saw, as they took “that
long step over.” What an awesome role she played.
I’ve never been
comfortable around the dying. I have found myself almost shunning those
relatives and friends who were in the process of dying. I’m ashamed now, but
that season has passed for them and for me, and I can’t fix it.
But as much as I
have shunned the dying, I have “associated” with the dead. I know that is an
irony of the greatest proportions. I love graveyards; the various stones, the
embedded portraits of those dearly departed ones, the written narratives.
“To everything
there is a season.”
It seems like
yesterday. 1963 had me sitting in Mrs. Belflower’s English class. She once
informed us that she was “Runner up Miss Georgia, 1949;” the year of my birth.
I doubt another former student remembers that statement.
I remember 1965.
That year found me sitting in Mrs. Lanier’s English class. I remember her as a
true professional. A true scholar. She went on to teach another ten or twelve
classes after mine.
Mrs. Belflower
developed cancer, and died in 1980 at the young age of 51. Mrs. Lanier lived a
good, full life and passed away this year. I regret never visiting them, never
calling them in the Last Season of their Lives. I actually saw the former
teacher at a concert, just prior to her passing.
I was out at the
local cemetery today attending to Tracey’s grave (see an earlier devotional.) I
go there from time to time, especially on holidays.
Mrs. Belflower and Mrs. Lanier “reside” in the same cemetery.
I knew the former was there. I happened on the latter today.
"To everything there is a season." Indeed.
Where once I sat mute beneath these teachers’
voices, their precious articulations
are now dissolved, and I, rather, speak to them. Whereas my future once rested in
their hands, my hands now pull weeds
from around their stones. They might
have laughed aloud, (or maybe not) to realize that such a season would overtake
us; whether by prophecy or dream, to understand that I would ultimately pay tribute to them, by bending the knee, to brush away time’s accumulation of
dirt and weeds.
Fate deals it’s
hand to all of us. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter approach, in turn. Some
experience shorter seasons, and Winter is quick upon them. Others linger
through each successive season, as though life would last forever.
I’m thankful for
LIFE, and God willing, this journey will be long and productive. I relish the
seasons; marriage, children, grandchildren, spiritual growth, impacting some
for good, good and bad events, relationships, ministry, and all the rest.
The seasons are
made for LIVING. I think my beloved teachers would agree.
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