Death is just a season of our lives, my sister told me

I have spent some time looking out the window, watching the seasons change. My favorite one is fall. That is a season that you can feel. Hot summer is slipping away gradually. If you have a window open at the right time, you can experience the very moments the wind blows the new season in. Old timers described it as a nip in the air.
When fall is leaving and cold winter is approaching, I feel a little twinge of dread. My dad always said

those who were old and doing poorly was most likely to die at this time.

My first season of childhood was a time when I wanted everything to hurry up. I wanted to be older. Old enough to spend Saturday in town with the older kids. If it had been possible, I would have traded those years of being the youngest for a chance to be grownup.

Those teenage years? Please, just let me forget some of the stupid things that I said and did during that time.

In my twenties and thirties I was on a cook and clean roller coaster for my husband and children. My kids were little and my husband was young, with thick black hair. It was a fun time in life, learning the role of parents and growing up together.

In my fifth century season I was getting a little weary with working all of the time. I sometimes just dreaded pushing a broom, or swishing a dust mop, or stirring a pot. I began to feel a little impatient at being tied to chores. After all, how many more seasons were left?

My sister and I have always been very close. We grew up together. As kids, we snuggled under Mom's heavy, hand made quilts and giggled and talked. We started our families about the same time, and our kids played and grew up together. My sister was the first one in our family to enter the season of not having her spouse with her. We all struggled with the loss and with her new season.

"It is just a season of our lives," she told me, not too long after her husband of almost fifty years died.

Sometimes I watch my husband standing at our window, watching the deers that come up into our yard, or just staring down the road. His black hair is gray now, most of it gone. When I ask him what he is thinking about, he just says, "nothing."

I know him better than that. He thinks about the kids all grown up with their own families, and the long, hard seven day work weeks that we that shared on the farm. He remembers the fun we had with our grand kids spending days with us, the four wheeler rides and the picnics, and the times he shared with his dad. He sometimes thinks about how difficult the season will be when one of us might have to live without the other one.

I think those thoughts too, but not for long! My summer season is gone, but fall is coming in with a blast. I am Mommy again to lots of temporary children. The only reason that I can do this article today, is because of a very good daycare close to my home. I am planning a child pleasing supper for later on today, and looking forward to making a pleasure trip later on this week. If things go as planned, I will load up singing Cd's for a two year old, lots of changes of clothes, and a bag of snacks to keep the baby occupied while we talk our way through the trip.

What season of your life are you in? Things are not always the same, they are constantly in change. Each moment of every day is an opportunity. The rain comes, and then the sun shines. We need it all.

I said in my heart, God shall judge the righteous and the wicked: for there is a time there for every purpose and for every work. Ecclesiastes 3:17