To everything there is a season…

I love back to school time! I have ever since I started first grade without benefit of kindergarten. I was way ready. I was going to learn to read! In fact, the oral tradition in my family holds that I returned home after that first day of first grade and swore I was never going back. I’d been there 6 whole hours and no one had taught me to read yet!

I think it’s possible that, even though it’s been a while, that I really have spent more years of my life in school than out. I still feel the urge for new shoes this time of year and have been known to do some kind of debatably wise things with my hair. This year, I had a blast buying back-to-school outfits for my 6 1/2 and very nearly 9 year old granddaughters. (Hint…I may need to send a copy of Pippi Longstocking, too!) And my heart beats just a bit faster when football season starts at the high school just down the street. Thus far, it sounds like a better than average year for band music. Much better than the recent year of the really bad tuba player!

In fact, my inner two million year old wise woman has been speaking to me in music again these days. Specifically, this recording of Pete Seger’s Turn, Turn, Turn! I’ve been singing along for days. (To those of you who know me well, feel free to laugh!)

To everything…there is a season, indeed.

Today would have been my folks 62nd wedding anniversary.

My dad died in September, just after their 51st anniversary. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. Part of it is the season, I’m sure. Another part of it is that I’ve spent the last couple of weeks walking with a dear friend on her dad’s final journey in this world.

A time to be born and a time to die.

And some reminders for me about timelines, or the ways we tend to perceive time and how that effects our hopes for the future. It’s a complicated thing to explain, as many neuro-linguistic programming things are, and yet an oddly easy thing to put to work. The reminders have helped.

The big thing I was reminded of is that the past is in the past (For these purposes, behind you.) And what was true in the past will not necessarily be true in the future. Here’s an example…

I’ve survived just fine for many, many years avoiding, at all costs, cameras pointed in my direction. Suddenly, though, I find myself in a different place. In order to accomplish the things that really matter to me, I’m going to have to come out from under the bushel basket! With a bit of help from some wise friends, I have a new picture out in front of me. A picture of me, easily and comfortably, doing a video interview. And here’s the cool part. Since I put that new picture out in front of me, I’ve signed up for a week-long challenge designed to help people get comfortable with video work. And, even better, I’ve begun hatching new ideas in video format! (Turn, turn, turn!)

That’s a pretty big change after a few minutes of moving some things around in my brain! And just in time, too. My external timeline got speeded up a bit this week, which is great, though it doesn’t look like there will be a lot of spare time for anxiety!

And a time for every purpose, under heaven. 

Oh, I’ve also decided that hating recordings of my voice is not something I believe in so I don’t anymore. Really! Voice, if you’re curious, is one of those wind-spirit-laughter kind of things I once learned to read about in biblical Hebrew. (Well, tried hard to learn!) How could I hate that? Problem solved!

Here’s one of the biggest things I’ve ever learned. During my dad’s last few days, when we were busy juggling hospice care and an endlessly ringing phone and a zillion other things, I realized that I needed every experience I’d ever had, every moment of my life, in order to do what needed to be done in that moment. Every one.

I’ve been different ever since.

It’s time to plant. (Though I suspect my actual garden may be a bit neglected this fall!) And I do need to get my hair done. Nothing drastic just now, I think. Probably!

There will, predictably, be more times to weep. And there will be more times to laugh. And under all those times there will be hope.

A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.