Interrupted

March 25, I have come to realize, is the last update here at “Cassie Contemplates.”  It’s unreal to think that over a month has passed since I last put my fingers to the keys and sought to put words to all that is in my heart.  Some might say that I shouldn’t feel pressured to communicate.  You could attribute my hiatus to the loss of a dear one, my weeks spent in an intensive class online, changes taking place at work, etc.  All of these things are true, but I can’t use such factors as an excuse not to write.

But yet, my writing took a back seat to everything else, and in some ways, I think I just stopped.  My routine halted, my priorities shifted, and as the Spring days grew longer in warmth and beauty, I simply took it all in.  I poured over each book of the New Testament as a requirement for my class.  I contemplated the life of Jesus and His apostles’ ministry, even as I considered my own ministry role.  I went for long walks and enjoyed biking to work.  I watched a few thought-provoking movies.  I took a journey into my past existence and paged through two of my published books, marveling at aspects in my writing that I had almost forgotten.

I made music with OneVoice, and savored each harmony and dynamic shift.  I lingered with family and friends on Sunday afternoons, and quietly recounted memories of our dear one.  Easter Sunday was particularly memorable— not because there was an elaborate brunch and musically dominated church service— but because there was a simple lunch for two at a local diner.  That’s what memories are made of, I came to realize.  It’s the little things that make the biggest impact.

In many ways, this Spring has followed the path of the past few months.  My recent departure from Camp has allowed me to take a step back and evaluate my next steps.  It is May now, and if I was still directing the camp, I would be entrenched in meetings, conference calls, paperwork, and daily trips to the post office.  The phone would be ringing off the hook, and I wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

Sure, there are sleepless nights now and then, when I toss and turn for seemingly no reason, but those nights are few and far between.  I may have said good-bye to a loved one recently, but the worry and stress are far less prominent.  And even though there are changes on the horizon for my church body, I have been more inclined to respond with anticipation instead of nervous dread.

I am calmer now… reflective… not depressed, but just quiet.  Change will often bring more than just a shift in the physical activity level.  Change also carries an emotional response, and this is where I am today.  In fact, I was walking this road long before March 25, for we knew that my loved one’s days were numbered.  There is something about waiting for the end that also changes a person.  One will never be the same again.  My pattern… my routine… the typical was interrupted.

I find it fitting that my church is even now heading into a similar season.  Our pastor is taking a three-month sabbatical, and as a result, we will be without our typical pastoral leadership in place.  We will have a pastor with us for ten of those weeks, so there will be some consistency, but in many ways we will be on our own as a body of believers.  Worship and music will be affected.  Sunday school will be affected.  Church board meetings will be affected.  Relationships will be affected.  Nothing will be typical in the next three months.

Three months ago, if you would have asked me about my thoughts regarding the sabbatical, I probably would have turned to you with an exasperated sigh.  “I don’t know…” I would have said to you.  “I just don’t know…”  But now that I have endured significant change on a personal level, I now know one thing with certainty.  Sometimes change is necessary whether we like it or not.  Oftentimes, there is something waiting on the other side of that change that we never would have experienced if we hadn’t walked that road.

Sometimes, it’s good to get interrupted.