A Last Time for Everything
In case you hadn't heard, I'm moving to Philadelphia next month. (Pause while I take a deep breath.) It's for real now, although there are still a lot of unanswered questions.
I'm entering the period when many things that are happening are the last time I will do them. My last meeting for worship at SFFS. My last business meeting at SFMM. The last time I'll swim at this pool. The last time we'll go to the Exploratorium. The last time we'll see these friends...
Many of these things could happen again, of course, but most of them won't. I have moved often enough in my life to know that promises of undying friendship are rarely kept. It's just too hard over any significant proportion of your life. I also know that there will be a lot of firsts to look forward to. But this month is more about making a lot of good farewells.
This morning, I went for a walk on the beach where I used to go three or four times a week. Five years ago, I started walking on the beach as a mental health treatment. For a year or so, I even ran three miles on this beach regularly. In the last year, I've gone maybe once a month. Today, I went and thought a lot about how things have changed in my life over the last five years. And how the beach continues to surprise me. The wooden shipwreck that I saw for the first time about four years ago is uncovered again. For the first time ever, I saw a hawk being chased by crows fly past me at about knee height and about six feet away from me. And I brought home a beautiful rock to remind me of this beach. It's a mixture of green and orange and white quartz, I think. A lot of the things I have written over the last five years were contemplated on that beach. God has spoken to me quite clearly on that beach. I don't think this was the last time I'll go for this walk. But some farewells take a while.
I'm entering the period when many things that are happening are the last time I will do them. My last meeting for worship at SFFS. My last business meeting at SFMM. The last time I'll swim at this pool. The last time we'll go to the Exploratorium. The last time we'll see these friends...
Many of these things could happen again, of course, but most of them won't. I have moved often enough in my life to know that promises of undying friendship are rarely kept. It's just too hard over any significant proportion of your life. I also know that there will be a lot of firsts to look forward to. But this month is more about making a lot of good farewells.
This morning, I went for a walk on the beach where I used to go three or four times a week. Five years ago, I started walking on the beach as a mental health treatment. For a year or so, I even ran three miles on this beach regularly. In the last year, I've gone maybe once a month. Today, I went and thought a lot about how things have changed in my life over the last five years. And how the beach continues to surprise me. The wooden shipwreck that I saw for the first time about four years ago is uncovered again. For the first time ever, I saw a hawk being chased by crows fly past me at about knee height and about six feet away from me. And I brought home a beautiful rock to remind me of this beach. It's a mixture of green and orange and white quartz, I think. A lot of the things I have written over the last five years were contemplated on that beach. God has spoken to me quite clearly on that beach. I don't think this was the last time I'll go for this walk. But some farewells take a while.
Labels: myjourney
posted by Robin M. at 2:01 PM
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3 Comments:
Thank you. I have several friends pondering these same types of issues and you are graceful in allowing us to learn from your example.
Some farewells do take a while. And some new beginnings do also. I am holding you and yours in the Light as I walk my dogs in this city, knowing that God is and has been preparing your way.
With love - Anj
Thank you both. I think the transition is going pretty well.
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