Change

Many years ago I was pregnant with my first child, while my Aunt Grace was dying of cancer.  I remember one meal in particular when we were both at my grandmother’s in Murfreesboro.  I was very sick, unable to keep most food down.  She was also unable to keep food down, the result of her chemotherapy.  One, then the other, would leave the table precipitously to lose what she had just eaten.  I remember then thinking that my nausea was a symbol of life, while hers was a symbol of death.

            Recently those memories have come back—my youngest daughter has announced she is pregnant with her first child, while my dear Uncle Sandy has gone home to Heaven this past week.  Life and death.

I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8:

To every thing there is a season,

And a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which 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 get, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, 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 of war, and a time of peace.

There is a season for everything.  Some of those seem good and others seem difficult.  There is a time for new life and there is a time for death. There is a part of me that hates change, that wants things to remain the same.  I will miss my uncle so much, will miss his gentleness and his caring, will miss being told he loves me.  He married my aunt and became a part of the family when I was only seven years old.  My world has always included him.  As an adult I got to teach with him.  As a retiree I got to spend more time with him and my other aunts and uncles.  And now he is gone, leaving a hole.  But I know this is a good time.  He was ninety-three years old.  We have had a celebration of a life well lived.

Recent days have also brought me the promise of a new grandchild, the joy of watching my daughter’s anticipation.  What will that Little One be like?  Will this little one look like mother’s side or daddy’s side?  What will Baby Roberts’ personality be? What will be the world that little one grows up in?  What will his or her contribution be for the Lord?

All of life is change, some changes we celebrate, others bring grief.  Nothing remains the same. My comfort this week has come through the hymn Abide with Me by Henry F. Lyte.  A line in the second verse says, “O Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

Hebrews 13:8 proclaims, “Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, yea, and forever.”  What a wondrous declaration!  In a world of change, I’m glad there is a constant.  “O Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

                                                            ~~Faith Himes Lamb