As I drove to the church this morning I saw a car pulled over to the side of the road. Beside the car stood a young mom, holding her toddler in her arms. No, they were not in difficulty. No, they were not needing help. In fact, they were looking across the ditch and into the field beside the road. The child’s arms were waving about and his little fingers were pointing. In the field several dump trucks crisscrossed temporary roadways. Backhoes were busy excavating through the topsoil and deep into the earth. Another farmer’s field is becoming suburban sprawl. The child was thrilled to see the huge equipment, the noisy trucks and diggers.
The delight of the child made me smile. The devastation of the rural landscape gave me pause.
The church where I am serving now is located on the edge of the GTA and is, therefore, undergoing huge transformation as the need for housing outstrips the preservation of rural landscapes. Since I have come temporarily back to this area, having been away for 20 years, I have been astonished at the development that has taken place. So many new neighborhoods of houses pressed together, ‘cheek by jowl’. Windows from one house just a couple of meters away from the window into the next. The town is, and has been for a couple of decades, under huge transition as it moves from a sleepy, small town into a feeder centre for the big city. Houses here sell for astronomical prices, as they seem to be doing everywhere. Sometimes I find it all a bit astonishing.
I have been thinking a lot about transitions these last few weeks. Yes, sparked in part because every morning I an not sure if I should put on a winter coat or a spring jacket! It is the transition season from winter to spring. But more significantly, because I am serving a congregation that is in a huge transition as they work towards disbandment at the end of June.
Transition happens constantly but it is sometimes only at the glaring, life-changing moments that we notice it. Driving down yesterday, from my home, I noticed that, all of a sudden, the fields and lawns are green. It almost seems like it happened overnight. One minute the fields are brown and dead looking and then, suddenly, they have transformed to a lively, fresh green.
In a few moments I will be walking up to the Funeral Home to do a service for a woman who died at aged 80. This is a powerful transition time for her family and friends as they say their good-bye. She was deeply loved by her family. Their family life will never be the same again as her absence will be felt at every gathering. Grief is a powerful marker of transition in the human journey. But not all transition brings sorrow think weddings, the birth of a baby, the delight of a move, the promise of a new job. Transitions come wrapped in many looks.
Maybe my reflection about this needs to come from the perspective of not only what am I losing with this transition but also, what am I gaining? What is the gift from this transition? That can be a hard one to puzzle through with some changes, but it is the truth of the matter. There is always something to be gained. We just have to take the time, and have the inner fortitude, to look for it.
