The end of October, and the first snow has come and gone. Some of the maples still have a scattering of their brilliant leaves, and the first snow has come and gone. My winter coats and scarves and gloves are still in plastic bins stored in the garage, and the first snow has come and gone.
This seems to be the story of my life. I was just settling into young adulthood when motherhood came careening around the corner. I was loving active motherhood when I looked up and they were driving off to college. I was adjusting to the first half of life quite well I thought, when I realized people do not often live to be 125 and I had crossed the swinging bridge into the second half of life.
What have I learned about being on a journey, through the seasons of the year or the seasons of a life?
I recently heard a story that created a visual in my mind. A Bedouin is crossing the desert on his camel. His is a large camel and he is dressed in full Bedouin regalia. Behind him, on a smaller camel, is his wife. Following behind her in single file are three yet smaller camels carrying three young children. The Bedouin is turned in his saddle, directing his attention to the three young ones at the end of the line, saying “Stop asking me when we are going to get there. We’re nomads for God’s sake!”
I must remind myself that this is a journey I am on. I am a pilgrim on a pilgrimage. I am a nomad on my way across the desert. I must remember that a pilgrimage is not a 10K race and a camel is not a Corvette. And if I ever think I have reached the destination, it just means I have fallen off the camel.
So I try to hold the seasons lightly, both the seasons of the year and the seasons of my life. Remembering always that this too shall pass, both the good times and the hard times, both the summers and the winters.
The end of October, and the first snow has come and gone.
Karen Moore ~ November 1, 2012