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Seasons

                                                         There is a time for everything,

    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

          The other day, someone asked a question I’ve answered before, but the way it was asked provoked thought. They asked how I responded to the pandemic in terms of self-care. My answer was that I responded the way I respond to everything. I buckled down to work harder. I have friends who talk about their time down in Florida as their vacations. When I go on vacation from one job, it’s usually to do another job. Oh, I may enjoy the vacation job more. It might be as much fun as sitting in a library for 8 hours doin genealogical research or spending time every evening writing a novel, but even if I go to a park, I’m on the hunt for pictures to take.

          During the past year, however, I’ve been trying to be more conscious and conscientious about work-rest rhythms. I’ve tried to make Sundays a day of rest. I try to make mornings my “get it done” time. I’ve talked to others about the idea of setting up better rituals (AKA routines) that would open and close parts of the year, the month, the week, the day, or the task.

          As I think about the time to do this, and the time to do that in the passage above, I long for those routines and rituals. I wish I had a better sense of when it is time to do what. That’s one of the reasons I am fond of noticing when the Mockingbirds get noisy again, and when the green haze appears in the woods in the spring. I take notice of when the Canada Geese start flying and honking in my neighborhood. These are things that connect me to the times

          It’s also the reason that my life is inconvenient to me, because I tend to be disconnected from many of the rituals and routines that so many other women have. They have time as a mother, and as a grandmother. I don’t have those things.

          I doubt I’ve begun to think about this half as much as I think I should, but what seasons have there been in your life? How do you respond to them? What have you noticed that tells you what season you’re in? How do you incorporate rest into your day, your week, your month, your year, and your life? When you’re not in a resting time, do you work as hard as you can, or do you try to bring as much rest into your busy time as you can? Do you have routines that lead into one season or end one?

          I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m coming to the end of my 50s, and find myself wondering what my 60s are going to be like. As I close things up here in Erie and get ready to head south, I’m at the season again of wondering what God wants me to do with my life. 

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