"He hath made everything beautiful in His time"

I've been reading the book It's All Too Much the last few weeks. It wasn't one I'd pick out for myself, but we're reading it for book club - it's all about organizing your home/life and figuring out why we keep the things we do, our relationship to the stuff we own, excuses for holding onto things, etc. I kind of dreaded starting it, mostly because I knew it would make me feel guilty for all the stuff (crap) in our house (tiny apartment), and organizing and throwing things away is always not just physically exhausting, but emotionally as well.

And that's exactly what happened. I read the excuses, checked them off one by one, said, "Yep, yep, yep...yep, that's me, too." Thus began the journey of organizing my home. I threw out bags and bags of clothes I haven't worn in months (but kept the fat clothes because eventually there will be more kids), I thew out boring baby toys and packed up ones Axton is "too old" for now, I sorted through the closets, under the bed, and the nightstand. I did it all without a second thought.....

Until I hit the bookshelves.

What is it about paper that I find so hard to throw away? I had books on my shelves I've read and didn't really like and therefore would never read again. I had books I'd been saving to read for years, and still haven't touched. I had books full of quotes and "words of wisdom" - and really, when would I sit down to read 100 pages of 1,000 quotes from different people? Um, never. I had my college anthologies, highlighted and thick with my handwritten notes. Oh they were beautiful.

Even worse to confront was the three-foot-wide stack of papers full of words that I wrote. I found the first paper I ever wrote for Brother Williams, which was also the first paper I'd ever written for an "English Major Class," which was the class that became the determining factor in me becoming an English Major. What I'm trying to say was, that paper was important to me. It had been returned to me covered in his green ink and cryptic editing symbols, the most hashed-up paper I'd ever received up to that point. But then at the end, he'd written the words: Your work is very promising. That's when it hit me: my college destiny, if you will, was to be an English Major. To take as many classes from this crazy-Nazi teacher as I could, and to show him that he was right about me, about my writing. I took every class he offered, and prided myself in each and every A he gave me (while peers would gush over a B from him, saying, "Getting a B from Ned is like getting an A in a 'normal' class). I couldn't throw away a single paper I wrote for him.

(The papers I kept)

The rest, I tossed into a bin to be taken to recycling.

(The papers I tossed)

Then I cried.

And I mean, cried. It was not just a few tears streaming down my face; it was full-on, shoulders-shaking-making-strange-gasping-noises-sobbing. I looked at that pile of papers and the hours of work it represented.  I saw the person I was during that time of my life - the freedom and the joy and the pride and accomplishments and compliments I received from it. I cried because it was over, and I would never again be that person and throwing away those papers proved it. I LOVED college. I was good at college - I was excellent at college. I could have gone on to get my graduates degree and my doctoral degree. I had the connections, I had the brains......and now what was I? A stay-at-home mom with mushy brains who hadn't accomplished anything important since December 2010. I had thrown it all away because I was scared and because being a mom was "easier," and now that he was here I would never get the opportunity back.

At least, those were my thoughts, and those were my tears. And yes, I realize I was throwing a pity party for myself. (And then Axton came over and put a green frisbee on my head and laughed and laughed and so I had to laugh a little bit too).

That night I sat down and typed out an email to that Ned Williams, wondering if he would even remember me. I was embarrassed with my sentimentality, my nostalgia; I also found myself embarrassed to tell him that "all" I'd done since graduating was move to Maryland, take a trip to Europe, have a baby, and continue to pursue photography. I thanked him for making me a better writer and student, told him I thoroughly regretted not doing the teaching internship while I had the chance. Then I said Mahalo for the first time in two years and signed off, not expecting a reply.

But, two days later, I received an email for Dr. Ned Williams. His words did my heart some good:

I have wondered what has become of you since you left Laie ...   Now I read that you have been wise in choosing motherhood, European travel, and photography during this season of your life.  Thoreau urges us to "make sure your footsteps are always pointed into the direction of your dreams."  Sounds like your post-Laie path would impress Thoreau. 

Do you see what I first saw when I read those words? During this season of your life. 

Those words soared into my soul: This is the season I am in now, Meghan. This is who you are, and it's okay. You had a season of college, you had a season of travel, and now you are in the season of Motherhood. 

Seasons, seasons, seasons. After I read that, now I see it's being whispered everywhere around me. I read a comment someone left on a blog that read: "Life is about Seasons." Another blog said: "I will allow myself to believe that there is a season for everything, and that opportunities and 'success' will come in time."

And then, of course, the scripture in Ecclesiastes that I had never really read until now:

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die .... A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance ... A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; ... A time to keep silence, and a time to speak....

He hath made everything beautiful in His time"

I think it's starting to sink in now. I was chatting with another photographer on Facebook the other day and I found myself telling her:

I also had to come to terms with the fact that, a lot of the photographers I tend to compare myself to, photography is their full time job. They either don't have kids or put their kids in daycare. I had to learn to be okay with the fact that I'm just not at a point in my life right now where photography can be a full time thing - it can only be a part time hobby. Right now I'm needed for a greater calling so I sometimes have to put photography on the back burner (and remind myself that one day they will be out of the house or in school and I will miss these days...right?  )

I think I was dreading organizing those papers because I knew that by throwing some of them away, I'd really be saying good bye to that season of my life. I had a good cry when I did it, and now I can move on. I'm happy to be in the season of life that I'm in now, and I honestly would not go back to any past "season" of my life if given the opportunity - because they are seasons for a reason! We need certain people, places, circumstances in our lives for different times. Change is good. Change is growth. Everything really is made beautiful in His time - and right now, my time is to be a mother. And it is gloriously beautiful.