Seasons

"To everything there is a season," says my recent Biblical companion, Qoheleth.

A time to be born. A time to die.
A time to plant. A time to pluck up what is planted.

It was a long growing season this year. At least it felt long. Maybe it was because the cold June delayed the season or because the garden was bigger and required a bit more care. Maybe it was because of everything else that was packed into the season this summer: the road trip out east, the Youth Gathering in New Orleans, the Churchwide Assembly in Minneapolis, the break in, the surgery, the hiring, the firing, and through it all the constant feeling that I needed to make a decision about my relationship with Jason and didn't know what to do.

I didn't do a very good job of keeping up with garden time this year. The cilantro didn't grow; I didn't get to the basil in time for the best pesto; all the coriander fell off the bush before I had a chance to harvest it. That was the way this summer went. But it was still a good season -- the freezer is full of tomatoes and zucchini, pasta sauce and pesto. We ate many meals made almost exclusively of "garden goodness." Once again I watched my food grow under my very nose and it was a blessing. Hard work, full of disappointments and struggle and learning, but also full of wonder and surprise and growth and blessing.

Two weeks ago Jason and I spent Saturday afternoon putting the garden to bed. It was a lot less work than the planting week-end in May, which seems so long ago. We harvested what we could and then pulled plants out by their roots, chopping them up for compost, each of us working in a different part of the garden, pulling up this shared labor of love, ignoring what was not being said. By the end of the day, the last of the harvest was in the kitchen, the rest of the plants were in the compost, getting ready to fertilize next year's crop.

By the end of the next day, Jason and I had ended our relationship of four years. There is a time for every matter under heaven; and for us it was finally time to pluck up what we had planted. What we had tended and tried to bring to blossom for so long was simply not going to be. I do not regret the season we had together. Oh, it was hard work, full of disappointments and struggle and learning, but it was also full of wonder and surprise and growth and blessing. I watched love grow under my very nose and it fed me so often and in so many ways.

But now, we are in a new season. And so, back to my friend, Qoheleth:

For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under
heaven...
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

The ground will lie fallow for a while. But new seasons are coming. Of that I am sure.