by Rev. Laura Folkwein
I will be the first person to tell you that I don’t like change. I prefer to drink my coffee out of the same green cup each morning, and I hate rearranging my furniture. Sometimes while traveling, though I love the adventure, a part of me wishes I could spend more time in the cozy, cocooned, in-between-place of a car, plane, or train. Change can be disorienting, tiring, sad, and lonely. Times of transition also offer opportunity, creativity, and grace.
Change really is all around us. I know I am a fool to resist. But I do need help. I find that nature is a generous teacher for those of us who may be a bit “change-averse.” Spring and Fall are my favorite seasons because they comfort and ease me through my stubbornness (which, let’s be honest, is a thin cover for grief and fear). Springtime brings welcome change from winter, when the first crocus and buttercups bloom, and we human animals begin to shed our own hat and jacket layers. Those first warm days of spring are a joy every year–a welcome change. In the fall, deciduous trees show us courage as they face their final transition. Blazing leaves give one final hurrah before floating to the ground and turning into compost to feed their mother tree for the winter (or our yards, or the forest floor). You don’t see snowdrifts hanging on and refusing to melt as the temps warm, nor do many leaves refuse to fall, even though they each let go at their own pace. Nature’s changes remind me that I too am part of a cycle of give and take, life and death, melting, falling, growing, grace, and nurture. That doesn’t seem so bad, does it?
I once read a brilliant little book called “How to Survive the Loss of a Love” by Peter McWilliams, which reminded me that transition includes grieving what is no more and gratitude for what has been. McWilliams reminds us bereft ones to enjoy and celebrate what our lost loves taught us (like an appreciation for bluegrass tunes, the family recipe for kimchi, or how to set clear boundaries). He is also generous with who these “loves” are: romantic partners, jobs, physical abilities, loved ones passed on, children grown up and moved on, or shifting friendships. Sometimes forgiveness and ritual for intentional letting go are in order. Is it time to throw rocks in the river, have a bonfire, or write a letter that will never be sent? Eventually, openness, energy, and hope for what is to come will arrive in the space we create for them with our remembering and our bonfires.
I am gently preparing myself for the day my green mug breaks. With a promise of chocolate and a few day’s notice, I can even consider moving furniture. Winter trees, naked of leaves, have their own kind of stark beauty (and it is easier to see the nuthatches and sparrows perched inside). What is it that helps you weather changes, big and small?
If you would like to ponder the topic of transition with me a little more, I invite you to Pilgrim’s Transitions Retreat, titled There is no small change, on Saturday February 12th, 8:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. online or in person. Contact the church office or sign up online, here: https://forms.gle/9iFtzsaPXsTbLsrAA
Laura Folkwein (she/her) is our current pastor at Pilgrim Congregational UCC. Laura is currently working on a writing project with her family to re-story her family’s western pioneer narratives alongside local Indigenous histories.
