Surfing or Drowning –
I just finished reading an article from seven years ago today about a father and son who were killed by a drunk driver. The mom shared it on social media and the heartache is still present and the wound raw. I can’t imagine the pain. I knew the father a little. He was in our church’s youth group. He was a few years older than me but always seemed cool. He was an athlete. He ran, biked, swam, and surfed. The morning dad and son were killed they were training for a triathlon. The father was named after his father and the son carried on the tradition. He was the III.
How do you have hope in the midst of such loss? How do you not drown in sorrow? How do you not get lost in such darkness? I don’t think there’s an easy answer. Quips and quotes don’t begin to address the brokenness and reveal our lack of intimacy with death. We do everything we can to avoid it. Most of us try to prolong our lives by any means necessary. When death finally does come we are quick to make the arrangements, organize a memorial or funeral service and push past it as fast as possible. But even then, death finds a way to corner us, trap us, confront us. After the hustle and bustle of meals, flowers, sympathy cards, and services we find ourselves alone when death, misery, mourning, comes calling.
Experts tell us that when we are caught in a riptide to not fight the current or it will surely drown its victim. Let it grab you and then slowly, moving parallel to the shore, slip from its grip. I think this is how we deal with the loss of those we love. There’s no escaping and fighting and refusing to acknowledge its power end in certain defeat. To allow it take hold, scare us, shake our faith, sweep our “normal” life away, but not giving up is the key. Slowly our strength returns, we regain our bearings, we slip from its grip, rise above the waters and live.
Turning Loose –
Last weekend Beth and I took a trip to see some family in another state. When we left the yard seemed green, the bushes and trees covered with leaves and even a few blossoms dotting the yard. However, when we returned after only a few days things looked very different. The yard had begun to turn brown, the blossoms were gone and the bushes and trees had brown leaves which had begun to fall. In the last week, most of the yard contains the leaves that until recently were holding on. The clocks were turned back last weekend and it seems fall has finally settled in and winter is not far behind.
I don’t like the end of summer. The bright days growing shorter, the green trees and bushes getting bare, the colors becoming a muted brown. However, I also know it is the cycle of life. What is alive and flourishing will diminish and die. The long winter nights remind us of the journey each of us will make at the end of our lives to the other side. There will come a time for all of us when must turn loose of the lives we have and accept the passing of time.
I have spoken this week with a young woman who is getting married next Saturday. She has two young children and loves these symbols of spring and new life. I also connected with someone who is faced with the reality of how quickly life passes.
The cycle of life is ever-moving. We don’t know where we are in the circle but we do know it’s movement, fast or slow, never stops.
On Saturday I posted about the knee problems I’ve been having and the steroid shots I received to try to alleviate the pain and inflammation (Crawl. Walk. Run. https://thewannabesaint.com/2016/05/14/crawl-walk-run/).
The good news is that my right knee feels better but my left one is still very sore and walking is laborious. After emerging from my confinement, doctor’s orders were to keep off of my legs for the weekend, I noticed the grass had not stopped growing just because I couldn’t mow it as I usually do on Friday and Saturday. My knee was too swollen to mow on Monday but yesterday I made the decision that the grass had to be cut or we’d be overrun! I rubbed some anti-inflammatory cream on the affected area, took a couple of Advil, strapped on a knee brace and proceeded. It didn’t go smoothly, was difficult but the job got done.
One of benefits of having a self-propelled lawn mower is that it doesn’t require much pushing, mostly guiding. Usually I press the lever, hold on and walk behind it, wishing its speed was faster. Tuesday evening was a different story. Because my gait is shorter and more awkward I had trouble keeping up with the mower when the self propel was activated.
As I hobbled along behind the mower I reflected on the pace of life. There are days, seasons when it doesn’t move fast enough and others when it flies by too quickly. It would be great to be able to control its speed to fit with our liking. Wisdom teaches us the key is to accept its speed as best we can and embrace the truth that life moves at its own pace with or without our ability to keep up.