To Everything a Season

variety of vegetables
Photo by Ella Olsson on

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which 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 together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, 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.

More than just a song by The Bryds, this passage of scripture from Ecclesiastes resonates with me daily of late.  Corona, racial tensions, employment insecurities, not being allowed to see my grandparents: all contribute to the frightful dives of this roller coaster that has become our standard.  Daily we begin to go up; blooming flowers, a shared joke, Zoom with friends, or toilet paper jokes keep our spirits rising.  For a bit.  Then the plunge-

The plunge feels like the carpet getting pulled out from under you.  The plunge feels like going under the knife.  The plunge feels like a child lost in the dark.  And we’ve grown used to it.

A million seasons lived in a day.  It’s summer now but if tomorrow holds blizzards, ice storms, or piercing sleet I will not be surprised.

My garden gave me relief for a bit.  I would find hope in the new sprouts.  Now I am waiting for vegetables that never seem to come.  There is sadness in the waiting.

I hold my breath with the world.

I hold my breath wondering when will my weeping turn to laughter, my mourning to dancing.  No certainties.  No expectations.  Jesus is the only constant, the handlebar on the roller coaster which I cling to, white knuckled and breathless.

I am reminded that He said, “Blessed are they who’ve not seen and believe.”  I hold fast the best I can, blind.  And I must trust in His grace to fill in the gaps.  There is nothing else.

My vegetables will come.  They will come and will seed to produce again.  Life will go on in the chaos that has become consistency.  I look to the Giver of grapes and green beans because although I do not know what seeds he is sowing in this extreme upheaval of soil I trust they will make good things because He is good.