Adapting to Changes

We recently had a most unusual weather phenomenon in our area. The landscape of rural Georgia morphed into a virtual snow globe overnight. Schools closed. Doctors offices and hairdressers cancelled appointments. People flooded FaceBook with pictures of oddly shaped snowmen, bewildered pets, and delighted children—as well as an occasional collapsed carport. Somehow seeing everything blanketed in white powder made the world seem softer, calmer, less threatening. And although many businesses were closed and people were sequestered at home, there wasn’t the same feeling of FOMO that we felt during the infamous quarantine because all around, folks were out playing in the snow and sharing pictures.

While I watch the last of the icicles dripping away and the snow surrender to the sunshine, a word I haven’t used in a while rolls around in my head. Mutability. As stealthily as falling snow, changes creep upon us until our world looks different. When the changes are good, we move along happily anticipating the next one. However, when circumstances take an unpleasant turn, our defenses kick in and we fight against them. We double our vitamins; we get BOTOX, we downsize. We pray.

Or we acquiesce and make light of things to disguise our fears.

I admit it. I want to resist the changes taking place around me the last five years. I identify with Thornton Wilder’s iconic character, Emily, in his in his stage play, Our Town. Through her poignant scene, Wilder conveys the truth that we can’t have “do-overs” in life. We realize too many changes take place when we aren’t paying attention. The ordinary days we hardly notice become some of our most treasured memories.

When I helped our caregiver tuck my husband in bed a few nights ago he said, “I just want to go home.” He’s said it before but this time it seemed to carry such significance it made me cry. I knew what he meant. He’s not yearning for Heaven—not yet. He wants what we’ve shared together—fifty five years of ordinary days filled with memories so precious they would be painful to relive. I look at the picture of our house covered in snow and now bare, and I think about the changes that take place as time moves on. I want to embrace those changes. I want to look forward to the remaining years I have here on planet Earth. I want to inspire, to encourage, and to motivate people, not live as some old woman waiting for the home-bound bus to pick me up. I want to make people laugh and be a joy to be around. I don’t want to be like Lot’s wife in Genisis 19:1-38, who became a useless pillar of salt because she looked back to what she should have been fleeing from, implying a longing for what she was leaving behind.

I came across a little card in the bottom of my book bag today. On it is a quote by C.S Lewis that says,

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.

It takes emotional energy to believe that. It takes confidence to look ahead and know it only gets better. That quote says everything I need to know. Now, just to live as if I believe it.