The Hermitage
April 10, 2019
I was doing my daily meditations the other day and enjoying the beauty of the live oak trees on the Ranch. Well, okay, I was also grumbling about the mess they make.
Live oaks are different from any other tree I know. They shed their leaves twice a year--once in the fall, when they also drop mega-quantities of acorns, and once in the spring when they also drop an incredible amount of yellow pollen. And oak worms--long strings of absolute mess. Forget washing your car unless you do it every day!
It’s Spring (obviously,) but I began to ponder their Fall cycle. After they shed their leaves and acorns, they go into a unique dormancy, from which they get their name. When all the other deciduous trees look bare and forlorn, live oaks, with their covering of green leaves, appear to be evergreens--like the junipers. The truth is, though, they are in a period of dormancy.
As I pondered this, I wondered, “Do live oaks know they are dormant?”
I certainly didn’t know I was.
After Andrea died, if you had asked me if was okay I would have told you, certainly!...very much alive...adjusting well to my new life circumstances.
Friends even remarked on how well I was doing. But the reality was, I was like a live oak. And I only realized it as Spring began to creep into my life again.
As I look back, I had been dormant for a long time. Maybe that’s not the right metaphor. Dormancy came later. Perhaps more appropriate is an old southern cotton field. Year after year cotton was planted in the same field. Slowly, year by year, the yield became less and less. The farmers kept planting cotton again and again until eventually the field became barren.
When I felt God asked me to step down from my active pastorate, I knew I was tired. Although I didn’t have a clue of what I was going to do with my life, I figured a change of pace would do me good. So, for awhile, I did supply work, then did a season as an interim for a nearby parish.
Finally I began coaching and developed a fairly large list of clients. But, one day, things changed. As I recall, Andrea and I were staying at a KOA in New York while visiting her brother and his family. I had just hung up my phone after a morning of, I thought, very productive sessions with some of my favorite clients. As I put my computer away, I suddenly realized...for months my life had been regimented and it was eating away at my spirit.
I tried to articulate how the decision came about, but quite frankly the story became very tedious. So I deleted it and rather than focus on the details I’ll share the process.
Gradually my spiritual life began to close down. Sure, I went to church with Andrea, and even helped out at services occasionally. But my daily bible reading and prayer time became less and less frequent until it was almost non existent. And I went from once reading as many as four to six books a week, to only reading an occasional hobby magazine..
Then came our illnesses, and I poured my life into caring for Andrea. As for my own cancer, the boys later told me that when they asked I said it was no big deal. In reality it was extremely aggressive. As I went through my months of radiation and years of chemotherapy, it was often a toss-up as to whether Andrea or I would survive the longest. And, as you know, it was me.
Reflections:
Like the live oak, I appeared to be alive from the outside. When plants and trees go into dormancy--appearing to the outside world to be dead--God uses the time as a way for them to put down deep roots, preparing them to burst forth into new life in the spring. But there the analogy breaks down. I didn’t, and still don’t, perceive I was putting down roots. Inside I wasn’t dead, but I certainly wouldn’t say I was “alive.”
The meditation on my journey out of dormancy...out of the desert if you will...needs to wait for another day.
I think what God wants me to focus on for this meditation is--
How did I get there?
It was ever so gradual. Maybe it began even before I “retired.” I’ve thought about wind wearing away a rock, or water cutting a canyon. But that’s not it.
I suppose I could stand judged, like the church at Ephesus in the second chapter of Revelation--”I have this against you. You have abandoned your first love.” Maybe that’s true, but I don’t think so.
Perhaps a better analogy is, i just wandered down off the mountain and got lost in the desert. Getting lost doesn’t “just happen.” Sometimes you keep trudging along before it dawns on you that you’ve gone astray.
I warned you that my meditations sometimes yield more questions than answers. This is one of them.
As I pondered why I felt led to write this, especially in this way, one thing kept coming to me--someone, somewhere, might read this and realize they are in “dormancy” too.
If that’s you, I haven’t a clue about what you need to do. God has said fairly clearly that my way is probably not yours. That’s why my journey “home” needs to wait for another day. There are no “formulas” except one…
Awareness.
That’s why I love the story of Elijah. After God got his attention he had to travel forty days back the way he came to complete the new ministry he had been given.
"But," you protest. "I’m not in dormancy."
Even if you're not, if you have bothered to read this far, I think God may have a message for you, too. And it’s really simple...if He asks you to do something--no matter how weird or “out of the blue”--do it. I wouldn’t be where I am today if someone hadn’t done that for me.
Till then...
Thanks for journeying with me.
Epilogue:
To give credit where it’s due, this meditation was sparked by another sermon series from Pastor Jason. I came in on the second Sunday. I know he thought he thought it was for his congregation. But I know better. It was just for me, and everyone else got to go along for the ride...but that’s another story...it seems I have a million of ‘um.
“What’s in your hand” and “Losing Your First Love”
See also:
1 Kings 19 - Elijah and the “still small voice”