Spiralling Seasons

This week, I’m still caught up in seasons.  It’s hard not to when you live up north and they’re all so marvellously distinct.  Winter is upon us, but as is par for the course in this vast metropolis, it’s cold but not white.  And then, of course, there’s that old wonderful simple yet sage Byrds’ song “Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything there is a Season)”. 

To everything – turn, turn, turn / There is a season – turn, turn, turn / And a time to every purpose under heaven . . .

Written in the 50s by Pete Seeger, the song pretty much embraces Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 word for word:

1   There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:   2   a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,   3   a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,   4   a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,   5   a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,   6   a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,   7   a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8   a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

When it’s a trying day—or week—I simply listen to the song or read 3:1-8, and  remind myself that everything does indeed have its place and time.  Actions and the timing of them are both relevant yet incontrollable. 

You can’t force something because—guaranteed—it ain’t gonna work out the way you’d intended.  It will, however, transpire when it’s meant to . . . when the appropriate “season” has arrived.  Stay strong and keep the faith.