As the Sands Shift
I need to talk. As you’ve always been a good listener— here goes.
The sands are shifting, and I’m not talking about a fresh layer of gravel upon the country road.
You know what I’m talking about—gravel that’s been recently dumped. Then, as the car makes its way down the once familiar path, it must find new footings as it is easily pulled in one direction or the other.
I rather like the familiar ruts in the road. They are predictable for the most part—until the rains come or the seasons change and the slush sort of does the same as the gravel roads in summer.
The tug of war with the tires is much like life as one must steer to keep things on track.
Well, I’m doing a lot of steering these days but my hands feel as though they have no contact with the steering wheel. Rather, all around me life is ebbing and flowing and not a whole lot looks familiar.
The culture is changing. National conversations are changing. Battles here and there have always been round and about us but during this season of life I’m seeing through a new lens. I’m grandma. And grandmas want to pass on the foundations in places in order to offer stability here and there to the next generation. Only thing is—feeling it and actually being able to do it are two different things.
When grandmas see a need, we want to dive in so the next generation can have what it takes—and what it takes is time. Grandmas have time and a little energy left to give to those whom we love. We might even have an extra dollar in our pockets to help move things along.
The cautions and precautions we took when raising our own can offer wisdom as the world swirls adding new layers of gravel upon the roads they travel.
We can see when snow plow is plowing up more than it should and we can see the road blocks up ahead that might lead to a detour that is not worth taking. Only thing is—giving voice and being able to give it at a time when it will be received is also a puddle jumper that must be jumped over from time to time and it all adds up—doesn’t it.
So what is a grandma to do? When shall we speak and when shall we be still? When shall we risk alienation if topics are broached that might bust others wide open leading to accusations of something other than our word spoken?
As life roles on down the highway and we watch it going in directions where we’d like to place a road block or two— it’s time grandma sit back and hand back every single concern to the only one who can do anything about it anyway. It’s time to rock with the only Rock whose foundation is more stable than grandma. The foundations laid long ago offer more insight than grandma ever could and, in fact, perhaps it’s time grandma take a look anew at what the Almighty can do.
After all, He spoke long ago about time and how He sees it. “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…” Thus begins Ecc. 3:1-11. There’s a time for every matter—not just one thing but every single thing. What matters is that the matters at hand are in His hands—not grandma’s.
He goes on as He speaks in His Word and Ecclesiastes covers it all. There is a time to be born…a time to die…a time to break down…a time to build up…a time to weep and dance and mourn. There is time to embrace, a time to refrain from it, a time to cast away…a time to keep silent and a time to speak. And so it goes this early morn as the birds awaken so does my soul. How great Thou art. How great Thou art.
Thanks for listening! Amen.
