The End of the End
For everything in life there is a season. I am sad today because a season ended.
If I’m honest, today was just the end of the end. The beginning of the end occurred months ago when we had to switch from mornings to afternoons.
Are you lost? I’m sorry. Monday we were supposed to go to a local nursing home with some other homeschooling families and the students were to play and sing Christmas songs for and with the residents. I have very fond memories of doing this last year and my girls were really looking forward to doing it again this year.
Once again a scheduling conflict bars the path of performance. The nursing home activities director scheduled an orchestra to play for the residents during the time we were scheduled to play. This is the fourth month in a row that we are unable to minister at the nursing home because of scheduling conflicts.
I’m angry because I feel that we are not wanted. I wish that they would have said “thanks but no thanks” when we began working with the activities director months and months ago.
Remember my post about the homeschooling myths? (You can refresh your memory by reading about it here)I’m feeling like myth number three: we homeschool so our schedule is completely blank and we can drop whatever we were doing to change our plans because you screwed up the schedule. That may not be the reality of the situation but that is my current perception based on the “oh can you come at 11 instead?”
My heart aches because I will miss those residents, but I wouldn’t be honest with myself or with my blog readers if I didn’t say that I also am relieved to not have the stress of wondering “will we actually go to the nursing home this month?” I won’t have the stress of reminding my girls to do extra piano practice to prepare enough pieces to fill our slot on the activity schedule.
Maybe it was time to move because my heart filled with pride? I was proud of my girls and even blogged about it here. One cannot have a servant’s heart if one’s heart is too swollen with pride.
Maybe it was time to move on because there are other service opportunities that my daughters and I need. Going to the nursing home and seeing those residents and trying to coordinate those sessions stretched me. I don’t like making phone calls and I certainly don’t like being reminded of my own mortality. But there was a blessing that can not be expressed in words A sense of communion that can’t be explained. And stretching means growing and the more I grow the more I (Lord have mercy!) become like Christ.
I do believe that we are called to love as Christ has loved us. I can only trust that as this season of serving ends that a new season allowing us to love as Christ loves will begin.