Not being a numbers person, turning seventy-five this year forces me to face my nemesis. No matter which way I look at it, three-quarters of a century is how long I’ve lived. This is cause not for arithmetic, but reflection, intention and gratitude. When I consider the years, I can see clearly seasons passed with God’s truths weaving throughout, like shimmering thread in a well-worn scarf.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 2:1)
Believe me, I have not been as cavalier as Solomon transitioning from season to season. The older I became, the harder I fought the changes of time. I wanted my life to continue the way I dreamed, with a permanent home, grandkids in and out, Sunday dinners with family, lunches with friends, a Bible Study, flowers in the garden and highlights, not grey, in my hair. I wanted to stay young, at least youthful, and remain where I was rooted. Was that too much to ask?
(S)he is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. (Psalm 1:3)
Okay, a family beach house for summers and a reasonable hiatus from pain were also on my wish list.
Ah, but God knew there would be no fruit if I stayed put and was healed. So new seasons rolled in. My husband retired, our daughter’s family with five of our ten grandchildren moved away, we bought a forty-five-foot RV, maps were charted and our travels away from home began. The unexpected season of being a “Glamping Gypsy” was not my idea of being “planted by streams of water”. Instead, we traveled from campground to campground all across the United States, immersing ourselves in the culture, countryside and cuisine in almost every state. Each time we broke camp (unhitched the electric plug, emptied tanks and pulled in the chocks), we said good-bye to friendly folks, drove to our next destination where we pulled in, plugged into the lines, put down the chocks and met more “happy campers”. In spite of myself, I kind of liked the easy-going adventurous friends we made along the way.
What God wanted most for me, I believe, was not to nest at home but to spread my wings and enjoy His magnificent Creation. In fact, just before we embarked on our three-month trip out West, when I was having a temper tantrum while sitting in my car at a red light, I actually heard God whisper (perhaps hiss), “Stop your complaining, get in the RV and go see what I made for you!” I think I heard “stiff-necked” in there, too. Then the light turned green.
With every mile my roots went deeper and wider and my fruit grew richer. It was a good season for my dried-up soul, with stories I look forward to sharing with you, my patient and hardy readers, in my book soon to be published, Cutting and Pasting Truth.
I realize now I have been “season-stepping” with the Lord, His hand firmly on mine, even grabbing at times. Changes with our traditional family holidays were difficult at first but became easier as the children grew and embraced their cousins with genuine joy when we did gather together. Passing the torch of meal planning, cooking and dish washing to our daughters freed me up to play and do crafts with the kids. Not a bad arrangement.
I thought I was being deprived by not being able to join one church and wondered if God was in on the scandal since I whined about it so much. Time on the road instead gave me more time to write Devotionals and stay bonded through YouTube with our daughters’ churches, along with the one we attended during our snowbird stays in Naples, Florida. It also seemed as if many of our new transient friends made up a congregation of sorts, and Church happened in campgrounds every day. Something about “my cup overflows” comes to mind.
When COVID hit, we were ensconced in our lot in Pelican Lake Motorhome Resort in Naples. Trapped, actually, because old folks like us were deemed severely compromised and a little bit crazy. Besides, our kids forbade us to leave our complex and checked on us at different times each day, trying to catch us being disobedient. While the country almost collapsed as the insidious germ caused panic, fear and death, our gated community of metal dinosaurs stayed parked in its protected paradise. Since the residents remained attached to their truck bed designed for mobile living, we spent most of our time out in the warm fresh air trying not to be too cheerful. Social distanced, of course.
I confess, I found the isolation a long-awaited sabbatical. The goldfish bowl life of the RV park dried up, the pool closed, and parties banned. Suddenly there was peace and quiet. My heart ached for the world and I prayed desperately for deliverance, protection and forgiveness. There was so much rioting, hatred and violence in our country, splattering the spread of COVID with terror and blood. Had God just given up on us? He should have. With a heavy heart I obediently slipped into my sanctuary of books, paints and keyboard.
Spring of 2020 was not a season of thriving or flourishing, rebirth or renewal, not even promise or peace. It was a season of survival on every level. But people, eyes glazed, muddled through until a new resolve birthed to withstand the isolation, adjust to the unknown and trust that God would make a way through the darkness. While our daughters became teachers homeschooling their kids, office managers to husbands working at home, germaphobics and Directors of Entertainment for their isolated, bored and hungry households, I remained behind a gate. As with all the other Moms who were forbidden visitation, the only help I could offer them was to stay well and pray.
Feeling guilty for my days of relaxation and serenity and frustrated by orders of restrictions and masks commanded by the government and our kids, I remained in a bubble of unknowing when the next Season rolled in like thunder. Within days a whirlwind of change swept my husband, dog and me from life as we knew it to months of trials, turmoil and complete trust in God’s Plan. Like Dorothy with ruby red shoes, I found myself whirling along a road as He threw open doors to a new home, Church and family of friends. When God answers prayers, He busts through every wall and picks the strangest of times. Those stories and more of His every day Truths are yet to follow!