This has been a season of stark contrast between life and death. During the past month, I spent time with my boyfriend, Chris and his family as they took care of his father during his last days. The atmosphere of that somber time was accentuated by the Erie, Pennsylvania weather — cold, overcast, blowing rain, “Dreary Erie.” Once I returned home to sunny spring in central North Carolina, I heard of others’ who’d died or were facing serious health challenges.

We’re told ahead of time that as we grow older, we’ll deal with illness and death on a more frequent basis; that’s a natural part of the cycle of life. It reminds me of the oft quoted Bible verse from Ecclesiastes Chapter 3:

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot” (NIV)

As I mentioned last week in my Easter-themed post, I love that spring is planting season and is a cyclical reminder of the hope of new beginnings. This week I found 2 bluebird eggs in the nest, which the mother and father birds have been faithfully tending. I’ve seen the male bird swooping down at a squirrel who came in through the opening in the fence and was underneath the birdhouse. Eventually, that squirrel left after the Daddy Bird kept at it; I loved that father’s persistence, his protectiveness a reminder of one of the gifts fathers provide for their children.

On Wednesday, I had the joy of being a field trip volunteer with my grandson, Baker’s first grade class. We visited the Jordan Lake Educational State Forest. Baker and his classmate, Lincoln were my only two charges. How glad I was that Baker looked happy to see me, hugging me and later taking my hand for a short while. I know these moments are precious as he’s growing up and too soon he’ll be embarrassed to show such tenderness to his “Grammy.” The rangers, who provided learning centers about wildlife in the forest, tree growth, soil samples, prey and predators did a great job — building in hands-on activities and letting the students put hands on the fur of a bear, coyote, otter etc– all real and purchased just for educational purposes. How full of life it made me feel to watch the students’ young faces and hear their squeals of excitement.

After lunch, the students were given free time to explore the woods. How much fun Baker and Lincoln had, along with one of the girls and her father, climbing the stream bank and discovering frogs and tadpoles, occasionally slipping and getting a shoe full of cool water. Lincoln, who’d gotten restless when they were sitting for the presentations, was totally engaged in our hike. He kept saying, “I love nature!” It made me wonder if he hiked with his family, since he seemed to be in his element. When he ran ahead and then came back to us, he’d say, “We’re exploring.” What an invigorating time with those six-year-almost-seven-years old children. What a great antidote to being around the realities of people dying and dealing with serious illnesses.

One of the mothers, who sat with us at lunch, was curious about where I lived and how often I saw my two grandsons. When I told her I was within thirty minutes, she responded, “That’s wonderful for them. I wished my parents lived closer.” She explained both her and her husband’s parents lived six hours away in Georgia.

I know I’m lucky to have grandsons and to live so close to them. Being with them, and being with the children in Baker’s class reminded me how important it is to be surrounded by these young lives. It helps to counter the heaviness of losses as we grow older to feel the energy of those with so much of life ahead. I think if I didn’t have grandsons, I would need to find a way to be with children — to volunteer at a school or children’s center. As we grow older, we have a lot that we offer them, too.

My hope for you all this week is that you’ll have what you need in this season of your life.

Best to you,

Connie