Can it be that we are halfway through the year already?
- Bruce Stambaugh: The Rural View
- July 5, 2019
- 1378
It’s July, and you know what that means. We are already halfway through the year. How can that be?
It seems like only yesterday that it was cold and rainy and folks from Florida to Ontario were all tired of wearing winter jackets. But here we are at the beginning of July, the year half spent like a jar half full. Or is it half empty?
I suppose the answer is a matter of personal perspective. Given all that has happened in 2019 so far, I could respond either way. It’s been that kind of year.
The half emptiness comes from the loss of longtime friends, people who lived productive, generous lives of service. They meant so much to not only me, but also to so many others they touched so tenderly. Others who have passed on were much too young. Their deaths caused heavy, burdensome grief and raised imploring questions and inquiries of the Almighty about life’s fairness.
The unruly weather caused miseries more disastrous than prolonged cold spells. Extensive record flooding indiscriminately inundated homes, businesses and fields and overflowed the largest lakes.
Ohioans came to the aid of their waterlogged Nebraska compatriots. Weeks later it would be the Buckeyes who watched and waited for their fields to drain. Crops that managed to be planted risked rotting in the soggy soil. Other fields may simply go fallow.
My wife and I have found that the half-fullness overflows with bounteous joys of exploring new places, meeting new people and having others reach out in friendly ways. To say we are grateful would be insufficient in expressing our appreciation for what life in the first half of 2019 has brought us.
In mid-January a sun pillar brightened the already gorgeous sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean outside our snowbird rental. The ever-changing scene served as a reminder to breathe deeply and embrace each moment as 2019 unfolded.
After a light, late February snow, the sun strained through trailing clouds and turned the rolling Shenandoah Valley landscapes into a spectacular sparkling winter wonderland.
A pastel March sunset bid us farewell as we said our last goodbyes to the family cottage in Ohio. Generations of family and friends helped fulfill the dreams that my folks had for their quaint lakeside-gathering place. But as that chilly sunset waned, we shed tears of gratitude and appreciation for the memories made and wished the new owners the very same.
Each spring I had enjoyed the showy lavender blooms of redbud trees that adorned still barren forests and neighborhood landscapes. However, I had never noticed how each individual blossom so closely resembled tiny hummingbirds on the wing until a kind neighbor showed me in April.
A state bridge engineer directed us to a cascading waterfall we would have surely missed had we stayed on the main highway. In the quintessential New England town of Jackson, New Hampshire, Jackson Falls became one of the many highlights of our May vacation.
The same kind neighbor who pointed out the redbud hummingbirds brought over a couple of puffy pastries she had made using the sour cherries she had recently picked. Her tasty treats made this June day even better than it already was.
You likely have a comparable list. What challenges and surprise blessings are in store for us the rest of 2019? We really don’t know.
Like July is to the calendar, we encounter life’s happenstance experiences at the juncture of our half emptiness and half fullness. Our job is to be alert, to explore and savor those serendipitous, joyous moments.
To read more The Rural View, visit Bruce Stambaugh at www.thebargainhunter.com.