"A time to tear down, and a time to build..."
It had many names. It was born a Volvo, but soon it was Mommy's car. Boosters in the back, it's cushions coughed cookies and quarters, sand in every seat, it was a true kid car. This hatchback carried groceries, soccer balls, beach toys, but most importantly it carried a family through its beginnings. My sister and I hatched back there. Then when it was our turn to fly, it became the Driving Instructor. It whined at every stop and wheezed to a start. It taught us never to speed, shaking us back to our senses whenever we neared 70 mph. When it was finally mine, it became Kat's Cradle. It held me through rain storms, it absorbed 5 surfboards, could bear an entire band of guitars and amps and mic stands. It watched me fall in love for the first time. It was carrying my love and I to the cheapest bowling alley in town. It absorbed a Nissan at 65 mph into the precious passenger's side. It watched us walk away, without a scratch. It did its job, but it would bear no more.
Farewell.
"A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them..."
My love walked out of that car so he can walk into a plane, to an opportunity worth living for. I am walking into a summer of letters, long-distance phone calls, and shortness of breath as I wait for my heart to return. Distance is scary. We're told distance stretches the heart like taffy. The farther it stretches, the easier it breaks. But I think that is wrong. I think the heart is more like a rubber-band; strong, made to handle a little strain, and home in a snap. Just like a rubber-band, we will hold it together.
It's also graduation, a time for scattering. But don't fret. We will all hold it together. And until it is time to gather again we say:
I love you, farewell. For now.
"A time to be silent and a time to speak..."
It has been seven months since I have written anything, which was scary. I thought maybe I was saying farewell to writing. Maybe I would never be able to again. But the past semester was only a time of silence. Biology and chemistry left me speechless. But now,the changing season has brought not only a freedom of time but a freedom of mind. I am back again. Just as easily and quickly as when I left. Through the distance, I held it together.
"What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time." -Ecclesiastes 3:1-11
Seasons change, and that's okay. "There is a season for every activity under the heavens." Every activity, even the sad ones, the ones we don't feel like doing, the ones that leave us tired. This is not a bad thing. These seasons have a purpose. It is easy to lose faith when something doesn't go our way. I lost mine along the way. And with it I lost myself. Everything was harder to bear. Days became long and arduous. I could catch myself asking, what was the point? "What do workers gain from their toil?" From all the difficulty, do we gain anything at all?
The answer is of course we do. Graduates, when you walked across the stage, were you still thinking all your hard work was for nothing? No. When architects finish a building, and walk through the lobby, are they thinking about how much of a waste all those sleepless nights were? No.
When you can see the fruits, all labor is made worth while. So have faith that the fruits will come with time. "He has made everything beautiful in its time."
Keeping faith is hard, I know, but not having any is definitely harder.
~Kat
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