Staying open in the seasons of lIfe

Another four weeks will pass by on the calendar before summer officially succumbs to fall. Leaves will tumble and crackle beneath hiking boots, and gray chimney smoke will waft into brilliant blue skies. Nascent spring life will submit to the inevitable beauty of brisk late-year relinquishing. The calendar says we must wait, but cooler mornings and evenings speak of imminent transition.

What changes are you sensing in your life? Earth speaks irrefutably with scorching heat and icy storms. Does your spirit welcome life's approaches with equal resolve? Do you not occasionally feel it in your bones, the ache of life's seasons? The urgency to move forward--or aside?

Where we live, stubborn months insist on a certain degree of individuality. The August we're living will bear little resemblance to the January which passed six months ago. Whether or not we acknowledge the seasons, they bear along their own idiosyncrasies.

And such is true of our living--acknowledge it or not. Change impresses itself upon each of us in waves of growing and aging. And upon these waves we have opportunity to participate in the making of our hearts.

Last week my wife and I calendared four beautiful days living in a tent next to a chattering mountain stream. In cherished moments of conversation, of preparing and enjoying simple foods and of sitting and reading and thinking, peace seeped unawares into the corners of our spirits.

"Wisdom calls out," says the ancient writer of Proverbs. I long to be among the wise who find ways to quiet themselves enough to hear her voice.

And how would you like your pain? Now, or later?

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in the dentist's chair thinking philosophically. "Why do I like myself so much better now, than I do three weeks from now?" And what I mean by that, is this:

I knew, after consulting with the dentist, I had an unpleasant procedure (not a huge deal) that needed to be scheduled. Something in the way the guy looked at me made me think he might offer to do it right then! And inside, I thought, "No! Let's schedule this later!" (Actually, yesterday would have been a great time to do this. My day wasn't heavily scheduled. But I didn't want the pain now, it needed to be later!)

We never want the pain NOW.

So I thought to myself, IF I could have my way, I'd choose to not pay my bills until later. I'd choose not to exercise until later. I'd choose not to read to my children or grandchildren, or for my own growth until later. I'd choose not to work at my diet until later. I'd choose not to cook until later. (And I would go out to eat NOW. I would put it on a credit card and pay later.) Later!

We never want our pain or effort NOW.

We know that discipline is something we need. We know we need it today. But the steps involved:
-writing a budget and staying with it, and paying for what I can afford when I buy it;
-saying NO to myself about that cookie or fa(s)t food foray;
-quitting that debilitating addiction;
-reading a book or taking quiet time instead of vegging in front of the television;
these things are just painful, and require effort!

So we postpone our pain until LATER. After we lose our health and damage that of those around us due to poor eating habits; after we've abused our friends by stealing their money or robbing their medicine cabinet to get our next fix; after the collectors have set up residence in our answering machines and after we've abused our friend's trust because they know they won't get paid back for last year's "little loan;" and after it's too late to teach our children to read, or our soul to be still... Later please.

So, while I sat in the dentist chair I asked: "Can we do this now?" He responded by tilting his head and saying, "Afraid we can't get you in right now. You'll have to schedule with the front desk." And I did. April 1st--April Fool's Day will be my day to hurt a little. And next April, and the next and the next--if all goes as planned--my tooth shouldn't be hurting when I chew on an apple.

I heard lots about repentance when I was a kid. I thought it meant that you said you were sorry. That is the beginning of it. But real repentance means to be sorry enough to change. And that is something we'd prefer to do later.