This poem is very timely, speaking of two different seasons we are currently experiencing. The first season has to do with this quarter of the year, with falling leaves and cooler nights. The other season is one of things not lasting but “new beautiful things come”.
The picture above was from a vacation 5 years ago. We were on Lake Superior, taking a boat tour of ship wrecks. It was fun and the kids had a blast. This old church is on an island, privately owned or else I would have suggested renting kayaks to go visit this old building. I love history. I love how we are all tied together. I love how some things last and how today is built on someone’s previous present. I love the reminders that some things do not matter as much as others.
When this lighthouse was in session, there was probably someone there who took loving care of it. Now, does it matter if that person wore matching socks every day? Probably not. Do it matter that they did their job? I think some decedents of past boat workers, who were kept from potential wrecks, would give a resounding “YES!”
At one point, this light house had a garden of some sort, whether it be flowers or vegetables or a fruit orchard. There was something near it. Standing where we are today, looking back a hundred plus years, do it matter if it was weed free and had a perfect border around its edges? Not really. Does it matter that some of the food was shared with those who may have been wanting? I would like to think so. We may never know exactly who benefited from it, but I feel confident in saying that those relationships and interactions held longer lasting waves than a pretty boarder, no matter how nicely painted.
While I am not against nice borders and matching socks, the relationships in our lives make larger, further carrying waves than other details in our lives. If given the opportunity to spend 20 minutes more arranging your seasonal porch decorations or 20 minutes making muffins and visiting the neighbor down the street, I vote for the muffins and the neighbor. Even if they are not chocolate. Even if it is not my door you will be knocking on.
We are currently saying goodbye to beautiful things, seeing the old things go. Keeping in mind that “new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind”can be difficult at times. Trusting can be difficult at times. Yet, we still trust. The wind keeps blowing. The leaves keep dropping. “…and the old things go, not one lasts.”