There is a Season [Originally published 9-9-22 on Quad Parish website]
My usual morning walk route takes me past a significant
stretch of restored prairie. The big
blue stem grasses stand a full six feet tall.
Walking on the road I am high enough to look out over acre upon
acre. The heavy seed heads have all
ripened now in late summer so that the expanse now appears to be tawny instead
of the sea of green that it resembled in July and August.
In the usual push/pull of the in-between of seasons, golden
rod yellow is the predominant color across the road where the grass doesn’t
stand so tall. Late summer is witnessed
in the chicory and Queen Anne’s Lace that still bloom along the edges and in
the black-eyed Susan that are sprinkled across my view. The willow stands and
cattails that line the low points are beginning to show some yellow.
The sandhill cranes are beginning to bunch up
again. The small flocks will build
through October and the birds, reddish brown just a few short weeks ago, now
sport the gray coloring that they will wear through the winter. Once again, the wheels of the seasons are
beginning to turn. Nature sings to the
reality that life here in this world, even when lived well, is both beautiful
and short.
I had the opportunity recently to gather with family
in southern Illinois to celebrate the marriage of my brother Tom’s oldest
grandson. Unfortunately, Tom passed away 29 years ago – a full year before
Tyler was born. He was only 48 years
old. Tom’s five children still miss him
deeply. Some are still struggling over
his sudden and unexpected death. I
certainly also wish deeply that he was still us.
Ironically it was Tom’s heart that gave out. I say ironic, because if there was one thing
spiritually true about him, it was that he lived as a person with a huge heart
– in Tom terms, he ‘loved large’. He
welcomed everyone into his home in that he did not lock his doors. They were always open to anyone who needed a
meal, who needed a bed, or who needed to just know that there was someplace
where they were always welcome. He was a
man of unshakable faith and trust in God.
He committed his life to service as a permanent deacon, and never failed
to reach out to those in prison, those on the street, those who were suffering,
those who were in need and those in the Church.
Yes, he could have made some better lifestyle choices
that may have added some limited time here among us. But be assured, he never abandoned anyone –
especially his family. He did his
appointed work here. When would we have
agreed it was enough? Probably never,
because we would never have wanted to say good-bye. As a person of faith, I trust that love is
the one thing that never dies. Tom’s
love for his family, his love for neighbor has not died. My brother Tom now loves perfectly because he
lives forever in the presence, in the very bosom, in the very heart of Perfect
Love.
“For
everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to
pluck up what 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 throw away stones,
and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time
to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to
lose;
a time to keep, and a time to
throw away;
a time to tear, 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 for war, and a time for
peace.”
Ecclesiastes3:1-8 (the Old Testament reading from
Tom’s funeral Mass)
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
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