Tomorrow is the fall equinox. This timing is not lost on me. My husband and I are about to enter the threshhold of the “true” autumn of our own lives together. This year emphatically marked the end of the robust summer season of our adult lives together. When our youngest, and our only daughter, moved out this summer, it pronounced the final period of raising our family, and the rearranging of our nest, to make the most of its new emptier, quieter spaces.
Recently, I have found myself uncharacteristically nostalgic about the past seasons of my life. I have collected some old toys and dolls from the springtime of my childhood, telling myself that they are for my future grandchildren . . . but are they? I think that my inner child is fully enjoying them for the time being.
I have unabashedly celebrated the joyous occasions of our sons’ weddings, marking the beginning of the summer seasons of their own lives, with their own wives. My reliable, nagging foresight told me that this was all in the near horizon, and so thankfully, my husband and I made the changes to our living situation, preparing our nest to be more suitable for just the two of us, after long living in the fun, chaotic, messy, loud, revolving door of a houseful of six (plus always a menagerie of pets). We walk through these large wooden doors of Autumn, prepared as we can be.
I am witnessing the stoic, resound, elegant winters of my elders, with a mix of awe, appreciation, and even a little confusion and sadness that the seasons change for all of us. There is no stopping time. There is no freezing children in their innocence. There is no preserving our wise, steady ones in robust, non-aging bodies. There is no Energizer Bunny keeping me as sharp and vigorous as the beginning of my blossoming adulthood in the early summer season of my life. Sigh.
And yet, it is all so beautiful. Every season is just so breathtakingly lovely, in its own unique way. And that’s what gets to me every time. That is what has my eyes filled and my throat choked as I write this. . . . . The poignancy. The masterful plan of Mother Nature. The Spirit that holds each and every one of us, walking with us, through each unique season of our lives. It is all so beautiful to experience, if we take the time to behold and reflect on the wonders that each season of our lives offers to us.
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die.
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to build up, a time to break down.
A time to dance, a time to mourn.
A time to cast away stones.
A time to gather stones together.
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time of love, a time of hate.
A time of war, a time of peace.
A time you may embrace.
A time to refrain from embracing.
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to gain, a time to lose.
A time to rend, a time to sow.
A time for love, a time for hate.
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.
– lyrics from Turn, Turn, Turn by The Byrds
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.