Tuesday, April 8 Ecclesiastes 3: 1-15 Transitions. Maybe it’s just my stage of life, but I find myself hearing a lot about them. From the lenses in my glasses to my children going from one school to another-even off to college, and my nieces and nephews marrying and having children… My parents declining in health and advancing in age… Transitions abound. Priests and ministers, catechists and committee members come and go and revise and amend. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or is it the other way around? Lent of course is a transitory season. The catechumens transition from applicants to confirmands. The penitent seek redemption. The absent return to services and see old friends. We abstain from worldly pleasures and transition back into our old ways once Easter comes. Then there are the stories of transit in the Bible. Of course Exodus is a big one: Moses leads his people through the wilderness to the Promised Land and not without a bit of a story. Burning bushes, manna from heaven, even his upbringing as a boy in a palace - and that after floating on the river in a basket-quite the tale! There’s the donkey on the trail who speaks to Balaam and of course Jacob’s ladder facilitates back and forth from here to Heaven. The New Testament has all sorts of trail stories, people walking with Jesus, boating with him, wishing he’d get home from trips so he can save others who are so very ill. The travel stories may even be surpassed by the transformation tales, though. Raiments whiter than snow, Elijah and Elisha showing up for various events, Saul becoming Paul, and of course Jesus resurrected, gone from the tomb, walking through doors into rooms where his friends are gathered. Put your hand in my side. Touch my wounds, he says to them. Come with me. Go, be fishers of men. As my grandmother neared 100 years of age, we marveled at all the transitions she had seen in her lifetime. Horseback riding to automobiles, airplanes and astronauts on the moon… Letters telling her of her son’s safety on Iwo Jima and email messages providing copies of her obituary for our review before going to press… The transitions any one person sustains and endures in his or her lifetime are remarkable. And so for me at least, Lent provides in some small part and in the best of seasons a time for me to slow down a little and really pay attention. What just happened? (Christmas) What’s coming up? (Easter) I wonder how it all goes so fast. When my life was simpler, I could really put aside my worldly race and prayerfully ponder things spiritual each day. And yet I feel called to do that even in the midst of this busy phase of my life. Without rest, music simply goes on and on. Without silence, sound is lost in cacophony. Only when we take time to stop, can we realize how far we have come and where we hope to go from here. In slowing down, even just a little, during these 40 days, may we ponder anew what the almighty can do. May we settle into a rhythm of rest and restoration, preparing for the joy of Easter and all that springs from it. May we help those around us in their transitions, as they help us in ours. Ruth Rock is a preschool administrator, a catechist, a quarterly chair on the altar guild and a wife, mother, sister, daughter and friend. She loves to write and read and pray without words; she loves dogs and horses and Bach and the Beatles, the mountains and the beach and our parish.
Posted on: Tue, 08 Apr 2014 13:15:55 +0000
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