He [the Lord] destroyed the whole valley—all the cities, the people living in the cities, and all the plants in the valley. Lot’s wife was following behind him and looked back at the city. When she did, she became a block of salt. [Genesis 19:25-26 (ERV)
If I ran the world, I wouldn’t be plagued with arthritis and my husband wouldn’t have a bum leg that prevents him from skiing and snowshoeing. As long as I’m fantasizing, calories wouldn’t count, we’d always have fresh powder on the slopes, and ski boots would be comfortable. If I ran the world, floors would mop themselves but, chances are, I’d end up like Mickey Mouse in the movie Fantasia and find myself overwhelmed with uncontrollable brooms, buckets and a flood. As the cartoon mouse learned, power without wisdom can make for a mess. Fortunately, God hasn’t resigned from His role and I concede that His plan is always better than mine. I’ve come to recognize that even when we understand God’s plan, even when we know His plan is the right one, and even when we finally accept it, we may not necessarily like it very much.
When we were children, we moved from giant crayons to skinny ones, from Mega blocks to Lego sets, from cardboard picture books to chapter books, and from training wheels to a twelve-speed bike. We happily accepted those transitions because they meant we were growing up. Somewhere along the line, however, those transitions stopped being so welcome. They simply meant we were growing older—going from twenty-twenty vision to trifocals, from a full head of hair to a bald pate, from endless energy to afternoon naps, or from running marathons to having a knee replacement.
To everything God has given a season, but it’s not always easy to transition from one season to another. Being somewhere between training wheels and a wheel chair, I’m having difficulty accepting that it’s time to move to a new season. The last two months have been ones of prayer, contemplation, acceptance and a few melancholy tears that have led us to decide to sell our mountain home; regrettably, this was our last winter here.
The Colorado town in which we’ve spent the last twenty-five winters isn’t Sodom and, while a helicopter will drop Easter eggs down on it this Saturday, neither fire nor burning sulfur will pour down when we depart. Like Lot’s wife, however, I will find it hard to not to look back. While I won’t turn into a pillar of salt, I will shed a fair number of salty tears. Like Lot’s wife, I’m not ready to leave and start a new chapter in my life. But, like Lot, I will accept God’s direction to move on.
I really have no cause for complaint. There are far worse things than spending our winters in sunny southwest Florida. We will return to our beautiful mountains, cherished friends, and beloved Colorado church family in the summer and fall, but as tourists and not townies. On the plus side, this transition will allow us to make a fuller commitment to our Florida community, church and friends. To everything there is a season and no season lasts a lifetime. Recognizing that one season’s time has passed, we must joyfully move on to the next. When we submit our lives to God’s plan, every one of life’s seasons can allow us to better serve His purposes.