The Cycle of Things

Every other Friday night I make the journey with two stops.

First stop, to drop off my youngest son, Baily, to his Dad in the parking lot of one of our beautiful local wineries in the back country about 5 miles from my home. Second stop, to drop off my oldest son, Hunter, to his Dad at a large rest stop on the edge of the freeway about 20 minutes further down the road.

As I think of it now from afar, the entire scene could seem somewhat sad to an outsider… two divorces later, kid swapping … not an ideal situation for any of us, but … things change.

As I wait for Hunter’s dad every other weekend in this same lot, I am aware of just how many other families have the same child sharing arrangement … and the same drop off spot. Little ones toting suitcases, pillows, blankies and backpacks from Mom’s car to Dad’s car … from Dad’s car to Mom’s car.

In our evolutionary process as a species, trying to define what real relationship means to us … this is part of the cycle of things. We can clearly see the breakdown of traditional union … but what is just on the other side of this crumbling still remains an unrevealed mystery.

I choose to believe we are headed some place good; some place collective and freeing - all at the same time.

… I’ve always believed that it ’takes the whole tribe to raise the children’. Yes … always have … always will.


After I dropped off both boys this past Friday, I began my 30 minute drive home … solo. Ahhhhh, the bliss of it! Car to myself (rarely happens with 5 kids!), music loud (listening to something groovy like Maroon 5, I think) … I began to travel through the foothills on the way back to my house.

If you remember this past fall, much of Southern California where I live went up in flames during the wildfires. The media coverage was all-encompassing. People across the nation were glued to their televisions, mesmerized by stories of destruction, the loss of land, the displacement of people and wildlife.

And when it was over, and the infernos had been tamed, what was left behind were these foothills – barren and charred … with no signs of recognizable life. Not a pretty sight but, again, things change.

Then something wonderful happened ...

Last Friday night, as I drove through those once blackened mountains, expecting to see the familiar remnants of destruction that I’ve been passing every other Friday night since last September, an amazing sight caught my eye. The months had passed, and the rains had come, and the sun had shone, and the wind had blown …

And now, just like magic … life had begun anew. For a stretch of about 2 miles, those once dead hillsides were completely covered with the most spectacular blanket of violet colored wildflowers you could ever want to see!

It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was … proof of the cycle of things.

It was a reminder to me to be careful not to judge a situation, any situation, too quickly. What appears as a tragedy and a sorrow can be , and frequently is, just a yet unopened gift …

So, I know that these times we live in seem dark and difficult. Our systems appear to be breaking down. We war with one another. The fires of destruction look as if they are burning out of control.

But soon, when the flames die down, and the smoke clears, and the barren land has its time to heal … I have faith that the human race will also see hillside after hillside covered with a beautiful quilt of wildflowers … made up of all the colors of the rainbow.

Fear not! … it is only the cycle of things.

K

P.S. - Remember - gifts in disguise … are still ‘gifts’.