“To Everything there is a Season.”
“Behold, I am making all things new. . .” (Isaiah 43:19)
The above quote is from the prophet Isaiah, but in truth, this past week, I’ve been thinking more about the words in the title of this entry, a 1960’s rock group, the Byrds, and their song “To Every Thing. . (turn, turn, turn). . .There is a Season.” The Byrds brilliantly took a passage from the Hebrew Scriptures—specifically, the book of Ecclesiastes, or “The Preacher,” as it is also known, and put it to music:
Deconstruction 1
“To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die;
A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill, And a time to heal;
A time to break down, And a time to build up;
A time to weep, And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain, And a time to lose;
A time to keep, And a time to throw away;
A time to tear, And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, And a time to speak;
A time to love, And a time to hate;
A time of war, And a time of peace.” (NKJV)
Having been a teenager in “the Age of Aquarius,” I cannot hear this passage of scripture without hearing the Byrds’ tune. But I digress.
What I’ve been reflecting on in the past couple of weeks, is deconstruction and re-construction.
Health
My Final Offiical Sunday as St. Philip’s Rector after 14+ years
The past year, I underwent some level of de-construction with my body, and a reconstruction. What I refer to as my “cancer adventure” resulted in a sense of my body’s betraying me, of the various treatments, including surgeries, rounds of chemo, and a number of radiation “zaps.” Don’t get me wrong. I am so very grateful. I did not have to have many chemo treatments, and I got through both chemo and radiation with a minimum of severe side-effects. I know many people go through so much more. Yet. . .this was my journey, and when one is going through this kind of journey, nothing seems small. That means side effects, loss of taste, tremendous levels of fatigue. . .and on the other side, kindnesses, small gestures of candy being left in my mailbox, or fresh vegetables left on the porch, cards, e-mails, gift cards. . .I took none of these kind, generous gestures for granted. I will never forget them, or the people who extended kindness and understanding.
Retirement
Another kind of deconstruction and reconstruction is currently in progress. After 22 years of ordained ministry, and 14+ of those years in one amazing parish, I have retired. I did not retire because of my health. No, I am feeling good and strong, paying attention to my nutrition and general health journey, and grateful for my life.
Yet I knew it was time to leave. There is a season for everything. A time for every purpose under heaven. I have been with a good parish for over 14 years. I knew it was time. Not time to forget ministry, yet at this point, I’m not sure exactly what that is going to look like.
This was the second Sunday not in my usual space and place of worship. Last Sunday, we worshipped in a nearby parish and got to hear a dear friend preach.
This morning, I spent a quiet, reflective morning, and this evening, supplied for a friend and colleague in a nearby university town. Again, I enjoyed the kindness of strangers, who were very gracious and welcoming.
My reaction to celebrating and preaching at an informal service surprised me, though. I was almost moved to tears, just by standing at an altar and leading people in worship. Celebrating the Eucharist and preaching feels like HOME to me now, and because I am an Episcopal priest, the liturgy holds me, makes me feel at home and secure. Liturgists with high standards have written all sorts of beautiful liturgical words, and so I rely on that as a grounding, a sacred vessel.
Kitchen Remodel
In addition to this reconstruction of myself in a professional capacity, though, there is a real and practical thing going on at home.
Deconstruction 2
My kitchen is being re-done. This project will go on for the next couple of weeks, unless something major is uncovered in the process. Flooring will stay, lighting will stay, and I am not replacing all appliances. But everything had to be taken out of the kitchen by tonight, and so card tables are set up, key small appliances have found a temporary home, and although I despise having to use paper dinner plates, paper small plates and bowls, I figured it was just easier. The dishwasher stays, as does the refrigerator; however, I just don’t know exactly what will be left after these next few days. We may or may not have a functioning sink, for example. We may or may not still have a stovetop or stove by Thursday. So much food prep has been done today, and we’ll depend on an Instapot, toaster oven, coffee maker and Vitamix blender—all temporarily parked in the dining room.
I am going to try to be calm. I hate this kind of disorder and chaos, but I’ll have to remind myself that in a few weeks, I’ll have a beautiful new kitchen that actually functions more efficiently, and looks so much better. I will remind myself that tearing things out has to come before building things back and up again. And in the meantime, I will do my best to trust the process. All will be well. All will be well.