Seasons
We dropped Maddie off at college in Pittsburgh this week! So. Many. Emotions. I was thrilled to be feeling well enough to be there for this milestone. I continue to marvel at God’s timing with everything on this cancer road. If we had stuck with the original oncology plan to do my AC chemo treatments every 3 weeks (with Keytruda) I would not have been able to go. But as it played out, I was over the worst of my chemo side effects and had more energy than in the two weeks prior. (Shockingly, I didn’t even need an afternoon nap!). We were able to get her bed made, her room set up; we met her suitemates, ate at the dining hall, walked around the city a little bit. It was such a gift to be part of the action, and to see where our girl will call home for this next season of her life. And yes, there were lots of tears as we hugged goodbye. The anticipation of this landmark mixed with the shadow of cancer made it feel weighty. But she's ready. There's no question Pitt is right where she should be, and she remains in God's good and capable hands (as we tearfully hugged goodbye, she reminded me that this was true of me too!) I know she will THRIVE in this new season. We can't wait to hear all of her stories!!
On the 4.5 hour drive home (as the tears would come and go), I had time to reflect on just how fast the past 18 years of her life flew by. This was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. We raise our kids to spread their wings and fly, so in all the best ways it felt like a natural next step. And still the loss is so tangible. Seasons of change feel like that. Greeting (or trying to grasp) the new while grieving the loss of the known, the sweet familiar, the comfortable. As Anthony likes to quote two of his favorite leadership guys, Heifetz and Linsky: "People don’t fear change; they fear loss. But change equals loss.”
This has been a year of changing seasons for us. This new season of launching our firstborn off to college at least felt like the right timing. Though you’re never truly ready emotionally, we saw it coming, had time to prepare, and knew it was the best next step. But cancer has been a very different season. It was not welcomed. We were not prepared. It didn’t feel like the best next step. Anthony and I sometimes look at pictures of our family at the end of 2023 and say, “Wow, we had no idea what was ready to hit us in January 2024.” Truly, this change has felt like a great loss.
The Bible addresses the various seasons of life in the first eight verses of Ecclesiastes 3:
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what 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 seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, 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 for war, and a time for peace
I like some of these seasons mentioned better than others. But I’m comforted that God names them. And what I love most is verse 11a:
He [God] has made everything beautiful in its time.
God, who knows the beginning from the end, is weaving every season together to bring a beautiful result—in its time. It reminds me of The Tapestry Poem* often referred to by holocaust survivor Corrie Ten Boom:
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
Only when I get to heaven will I see the beautiful tapestry he is weaving. And I’ll find that all the hurt, pain and sorrow will have been as necessary for the full picture as the joy, delight and gladness. As this poem says, I currently only see the mess of the underside of the tapestry and cannot fathom what the final finished picture on the upper side will look like. Ecclesiastes 3:11b speaks to this:
Also, he [God] has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.
God has put eternity in our hearts—that sense that there is something more beyond this present life. And yet, we will never be able to figure out God’s full breathtaking picture until we get there. The ESV Study Bible notes put it well: “Both our desire to understand all of life, as well as the limitation on our ability to do so, have been ordained by God.” This is where faith comes in—entrusting my life to a loving God who is mysteriously weaving all the threads together. This truth brings deep comfort. It’s how we can look suffering full in the face and, though sorrowful, remain radiant (Psalm 34:5). It’s how we can turn the page on a new chapter and send our “little girl” to college. And it’s how we can find peace through a difficult season of cancer. All of these threads are purposeful. We can’t wait to see the exquisite finished masterpiece. **
Prayer:
That Maddie will settle in at Pitt and find good friends and a good rhythm as her classes start Monday.
As we await my surgery on Sept. 11, pray we can live fully in the moment and enjoy these next couple of weeks while I’m feeling good.
*This poem, written by Grant Colfax Tullar, is entitled “The Weaver,” but is often referred to simply as “The Tapestry Poem.”
**You can read more in this blog post on how to be sure of eternal life through Jesus.