Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Everything Changes.

Everything changes.  My waistline was 22 inches for years. Even after birthing two children, the waistline got back down to 24 inches.  It was only after age 50 that the inches began to creep. At 60 I lost the tape measure. Intentionally? Maybe, but not consciously.

Everything changes. Age has a way of slipping silently through the nights until one morning I wake up with wrinkles where wrinkles shouldn't show. I visit a parent and see a quiet elderly father where yesterday's active and outspoken middle-aged parent stood.

Everything changes. A letter arrives sharing the news from my older teenaged cousin whose husband is in a nursing home and has fallen and broken his hip. Did I mention the teenaged cousin must be late 70s or older now? And the aging mother of my late friend, who died prematurely at age 61 last year, is in the hospital for surgery to remove a kidney.

Everything changes. My cute, bouncy, curvaceous and joyful aunt (now mid 80's) has been living with an oxygen tank for the past several years, while another close family friend is now 95+ years and plagued by arthritis; yet both of these elderly women, who were active and vivacious young people, still live alone with family close at hand.

Everything changes. The Redbud tree outside my window is no longer beautiful with blooms but is in what I call the tree's ugly stage and covered with willy nilly leaves and seed pods weighing down branches. The tree needs a pruning to shape it up again for next spring.

Everything changes. The Redbuds and Jonquils planted and nurtured by my departed mother are gone, bulldozed down to clear the land. At Easter my daughter had wanted some of the Jonquil bulbs for her garden. I told her to let them finish blooming and we would dig some on her next visit to the farm. Now they are gone before we could save any of the bulbs. I know there are others. I will try to find and collect some of them before they disappear, so that Mom's Jonquils and other flowers can continue to bloom in a new place with new life.

Everything changes. As with the Redbud trees and Jonquils, we all go through the stages of life. As the tree doesn't know when the pruning will come nor the Jonquils when they may be dug out of the ground, we do not know when our change will come. However, I am positive that after the transplant, we will experience new life in the springtime to come.

Change is inevitable, but still ... change is hard.

Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up. --Proverbs 12:25