To Everything There is a Season

     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 her 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 head out to the local cemetery from time to time, especially on holidays.

    Mrs. Belflower and Mrs. Lanier “reside” in that 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.

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Unconventional Devotions" Copyright 2005

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