Things Change, Things End

Things change. Things end. It’s just part of life.

Here I am and a major thing is ending for me.

There will be some separation anxiety. This thing ending has been a part of me for ten, eleven, twelve or so years. It’s hard to track time as you get older.

Deep down, I knew this thing would end. I may not have really wanted to think about it in such terms but I knew there would come a day when it would be the end.

Monday, November 24, 2008 was a cold, harsh day here, weather-wise. It rained most of the day. The wind blew the rain sideways like you see the wind blowing sand in those movies set in some desert. That seemed appropriate for the end.

At the end of this Monday, I left work and stepped into my red Toyota pick-up, started her up, flipped on the lights, turned the radio down a bit, clicked on the wipers and made the trek home being careful on the rain-streaked streets not to drive any crazier than I should.

Once home, I pulled up to the mailbox and pulled out a few bills, a few notices and a magazine or two. I then eased into the comfy confines of the garage. Before climbing the stairs into the house, I pulled our garbage can out to the side of the house so that I might roll it out to the curb after rounding up the rest of the garbage. I then unloaded my laptop and my coat and the mail from the truck and started up the stairs. Before I did though, I stopped and gave a knuckle bump to my truck. She had gotten me home safely one more time, this time on wet streets through rush hour, arriving home just as the darkness of the night settled on our street.

My truck has been my old familiar companion for years. Monday, November 24, 2008 it began a vacation from me. You see, things end. And, things change.

Two days earlier, Jennifer and I bought an almost new Honda CRV. For now, I will get to drive the CRV. This means the deep red Toyota extended cab gets to rest from her 190,000+ miles for awhile.

This morning we drove to the auto dealership and took possession of our 2007 Honda CRV. I then drove this new-to-us vehicle to work. I drove around our campus to my usual slate of parking spaces, no doubt sitting up straighter than usual. As I neared my final turn, I couldn’t help but feel a wee bit nostalgic already for my old red Toyota pick-up but, deep down, I knew things had changed.

Things do change and things do end. It is just part of life after all.

Leaves, Colors, Rain, Fog, A Remarkable World

The leaves have been beautiful the last few weeks. Brilliant shades of orange, yellow, red and green all mixed together have been remarkable reminders of how God changes seasons where we live. Set that beautiful palette on rolling hills against the backdrop of a blue sky and you discover another meaning of beauty.

Recently, my job took me and a couple of co-workers to a remote place an hour away. The majority of the drive is remarkable, open skies, mountains, trees. When you get there, the base of the mountains are within sight, so close it seems you could stop the car and take a few steps over to it. On this particular day, the rain fell. It was hard to see the sky since it was shrouded in a fog that was as thick as soup in places. Through the raindrops you could see the mountains and the kaleidoscope of colors on the trees. While this trip is always enjoyable and at times breathtaking when the sun sits high in the sky, there was just something hypnotic about the wet leaves dangling from the trees, the heavy fog clinging to the mountains like a bashful child clings to his mother’s dress, and the chill of autumn nudging at my skin. It was beautiful in a way that the brightest, sunniest day could not even match.

While the leaves are beautiful for awhile, they soon become a nuisance for me. Every year, one fall day, a rain will come or strong winds will blow for hours. This day was the day that began the separation of the leaves from the trees in our yard. The yard where I struggle to grow grass will soon be overtaken with leaves of all shapes and sizes. The gutters which run the length of the front and back of the house fill with leaves in the blink of an eye. The shrubbery which lines our driveway catches stray leaves from the neighbor’s yard. Almost every inch of the yard will be covered by leaves.

So, over the next few weeks, I’ll drag out the rake and the leaf blower, crank up the iPod and spend hours moving piles of leaves from one place to another so the yard can be seen again. By then the pretty colors of the leaves will have turned to a earth-tone brown while I hope the grass will revive into a bright green in a few months. And maybe for a moment, the memory of the radiant color of the fall’s leaves will pass through my mind and remind me the annual leaf moving exercise is worth the beautiful colors, the sunny skies, the rainy skies and the clinging fog to live in the remarkable world I live in.

Worry and Love

Today is my Mom’s birthday. A couple of weeks ago my Dad celebrated his birthday. In four months, they will celebrate 60 years of marriage together. They are grower older. We all grow older. They, though, are beginning to show age on their faces and in their steps now more than ever.

My mom is the best worrier I know. She worries about me even now and she worries about my brother and my sister and their spouses and the grandkids and the great grandkids and the sisters and the brothers and the in-laws and the neighbors and on and on and on. Growing up she worried about my school work, my driving, my bike riding, being out with friends, traveling, going off to college, finding a job, finding a spouse. My dad is not a major worrier like mom although I know he has done his fair share of worrying. He tends to let things simmer inside hoping the answer will somehow bubble to the top.

Lucky me, I do both.

Now, I worry about Mom and Dad. I worry that they take the right medicine at the right time. I worry that they eat right. I worry when they leave the house and drive somewhere. I worry they sleep too much. I worry I don’t visit them enough. I worry when I mention my concerns about these things to them and they just blow them off like there’s nothing at all to worry about, so I let it brew inside, hoping the solution to all the worrying will magically appear.

It never does though.

Later today I will call Mom and wish her a happy birthday. We’ll talk and I’ll try to read the worry in her words over things I know she has tumbled over in her mind time after time. I’ll tell her not to worry about things she can’t change. She worries about those she loves making choices she doesn’t agree with or understand. I try to tell her that these people are adults and can make their own choices and by doing so have to live with the consequences of what they decide. Naturally, that only causes her more worry. She’ll worry about my sinus headache or whether or not I wear a jacket in the cool morning air. I know all that worry she and Dad do over all of us stems from love.

And when I hang up and wish her a good birthday I’ll wonder if she can read the worry I have for her and Dad in my own voice because I do love them so much.

Matthew 6:33-34