This summer has been a doozy. I lost a grandmother, rode the rails of the cancer train with another grandmother (still riding), had a grandfather fall and break his hip–and this while he suffers from late-stage Alzheimer’s. I’ve been on an extended family vacation, finished a manuscript, tried to sleep at night (and found myself unsuccessful). I’ve done my level-best, along with millions of other Americans, to ignore our political candidates and their latest absurdities, but found myself horrified anyway when I peaked through my fingers.
All in a few weeks’ time.
This summer has been a doozy, yes, and I’m almost ready for it to be over, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t necessary. Everything we go through, each day that passes, is, in its own mysterious way, a necessary part of the whole that makes up our lives. Our experiences shape us and we shape them (which is what writing is, in the end, the shaping of events into stories we can tell until we begin to understand them a little). God helps us with the shaping, and that’s a good thing since he’s the one who holds everything anyway.
Still, I look forward to the coolness of fall, the reassurance of routine. I prepare to kiss summer goodbye this time without a hint of nostalgia. It’s almost time and I’m ready.