The Seasons of Life

Zachery was the eagerly-awaited grandbaby, read and sung to in the womb, loved and prayed for--and stillborn. Two years had passed, and I was still grieving because it seemed to us that medically his death should not have happened. I mourned not only the loss of the baby but also the ugly rift that it caused in his parents' relationship. Some losses can be reasoned with, figured out. This could not. It was wasteful and needless, a terrible trauma in all our lives, and I just had not been able to get past the enormous load of pain to leave it all completely in God's hands. One bright October day, I was walking in the woods at a private "retreat" place in the country, marveling at the brilliant display of fall color: vibrant yellow and scarlet, complemented by more somber shades of brown. Above them all, there was a vast expanse of achingly intense blue sky. As I crunched my way through the thick layer of leaves on the floor of the woods, I had the distinct impression that the Creator of all this beauty wanted me to understand something. "Notice and honor the cycles of life."

Looking about, I saw among the living trees some fallen ones; their gnarled trunks had their own special beauty. Some were still useful as well as handsome, forming the rails of the fence or providing places to sit in the warm sunshine. The thought came to me: "Well, trees just don't live forever. And people don't either. I guess I'm now in the autumn season of life."

Then I noticed around me the little seedlings that were sprouting up here and there. Next year, I decided, and the next and the next, there will be new trees to take the place of the old. "Honor the cycles of life." I could see those cycles here in the woods: living, flowering, bearing fruit, adding value, sharing beauty, changing, and finally—dying. Life in the woods will go on though, and that will be true in my life too. Baby Erin, the newest member of our extended family at that time, along with the other children in her generation will fulfill God's purpose for them, and the cycle of life's seasons will continue long after I am gone. That is not to be feared or shunned. It is good! "My times, Lord, are in Your hand."

Then I made my way to the pasture planted in brome grass. It was stiff and brown, and the immediate realization came: Some things, unlike the trees, have a very short life. The brome grass. Zachery. And God whispered to my heart, "Accept the short growth season of Zachery's life. I rule the seasons." I looked again at the brome. It was not really dead. It had been mowed short and would soon go dormant, but it was not dead. Nor is Zachery dead, I thought, although his season of growth was cut short. His life is abundant now, his growth unequaled in the perfect conditions of heaven!

"But Lord, I still can't understand why . . ." I so wanted an explanation! God's final word was, "There is mystery in the seasons." With that, I will have to be content. There may never be satisfactory answers for some of the things in life--but nevertheless there is comfort. God is in control!

As if to confirm what God was saying, the Scripture portion assigned for our meditation arrested my attention. "For you created [Zachery's] inmost being; You knit him together in his mother's womb . . . His frame was not hidden from You when he was made in that secret place . . . Your eyes saw his unformed body. All the days ordained for him [although not one of them was lived on earth] were written in Your book before one of them came to be." (Psalm 139:13, 15, 16)

Lord, what can I say? You were there when the doctor told the devastated parents, "I'm not getting a heartbeat." You were there in that hospital room when the agony of childbirth produced only a dead baby. You were there when we held Zachery, stroked his dark hair, adored his tiny fingers—and then went home with empty arms. This numbing, awful thing was not a dream—it was really happening—and You were really there! It was dark for us—so very, very dark. But it is all the same to You. Night and day are alike. You are not confused or uncertain. The Scripture says, "The night is as light to You." (Psalm 139:12) In our most awful night, just as in the light, You are always here—watching, waiting, wooing us.

That farm place has new owners now, and is no longer available to me for retreats, but it will always be a "sacred space" in my memory. I think of that day as I encounter the changing seasons of my life. Singleness. Child-rearing. Marriage. Loss of husband. Singleness again. Returning to work in the public sector. Some plans not carried out, some dreams not yet fulfilled. And yes, aging too! It's not helpful to deny or try to avoid that. All the seasons of life are good. The dark times and the light-filled ones are good. I am learning to accept and honor them.

Marjorie

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright©1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.