I preached my last sermon two weeks ago. Sometimes all you can do is to preach right out of the situation you have in your own life. So it felt very fitting and somehow comforting for me to go back to the wise old man and his words, "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 / a time to kill and a time to heal / a time to tear down and a time to build..."
There is wisdom in knowing when some things end and other ones begin. There is wisdom in recognising the change and rhythm of seasons in one's life.
Oftentimes the changes are gradual and not dramatic. Who notices when spring has turned into summer? Who pays attention to the first yellow birch leave (the first gray hair)? But on other occasions, the changes are sudden and sharp. You lived in one season, one reality just yesterday but today everything has changed and a new season has begun.
This Bible text felt so relevant because we live in the middle of very sharp and big changes in our family.
First, it was just last week we moved apartments. We put our lovely home in Arninge on sale in September and by God's help and guidance, we managed to sell it fast. Just this Tuesday we wiped away the last specs of dust in the empty apartment, signed the last papers, and gave the keys to the new owner. Our new apartment is about a kilometer away from Ekebyholm which means that it suddenly takes us 4 minutes - instead of 40 as it used to - to go to work or church.
I have managed the move surprisingly well. I have only a very few real childhood traumas but moving was one of them. The frustration and helplessness I felt as a child or a teenager when my dad would come home from the Conference's constituency meeting and announce that he has been sent to pastor a church in another town... No-one ever asked us, no-one ever discussed these matters with us. Whenever we moved, I cried for months and months. And interestingly enough, it never got easier. I remember the last time I moved together with my parents - I was 19 (!) and had already gone through my first year in university and yet, the day the moving lorry took all our things away, I sat on the stairs of our empty home and cried like a little baby. A small part of me never got over losing my homes like this.
There has been no rivers of tears this time, thank God. Sadness, yes, but no bottomless agony. It just makes sense (also economically) to come closer to Ekebyholm now that we still can. Trying to stay rational about it helps a great deal.
Secondly, it is my last day at work today before the maternity leave. I will not manage to clean my desk in the office today and a couple of emails may still have to be sent next week but by and large, I am done. I have a mixed feelings about it, from sadness to exhilarating relief. The plan is to use up every single drop of generosity of the Scandinavian parental leave system and be off work for about two years.
The biggest change - the birth of the baby - has not happened yet. Officially, my due date is still two weeks away but things can happen any time now. So I try and notice every tiny milligram of pain, do my daily exercises and eat dates (the amount of old wives' tales out there!!), hoping that the little one would arrive rather sooner than later.
The imminence of the baby's arrival has heightened the sense of gratitude for the soon-ending season of life. I remember sitting in the Royal Opera some weeks ago and thinking, "When will I get to enjoy a luxury of a 3-hour opera again?" I am much more conscious about the little freedoms and joys I have taken for granted for so long. So, I have made myself stop and notice good things every time the thought "This will change soon" has crossed my mind. It's a good exercise, I recommend.
To sum up life in the past month or so, I have...