Sacred Cycles

Fifty years ago, my two younger sisters and I boarded a 747 jumbo jet bound for Southern California to visit our father, who had moved there a year earlier after he and my mother separated. It was a magical trip filled with beach outings, Disneyland adventures, studio tours, and new experiences. We sipped frozen virgin margaritas, tasted taquitos and artichokes for the first time, and watched snails creep along sidewalks, glistening under sprinklers before the sun burned away the morning haze.

Decades have passed since all three of us have visited at the same time. Between work, logistics, and finances, Dad has carried the weight of traveling for shared holidays and family gatherings.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to California again, each flying in from different cities. But this time, is starkly different. We’ll spend most of the long weekend by Dad’s bedside, offering comfort and perhaps tackling a few tasks as a small return for the countless handyman projects he’s done for us over the years. We'll be there to support him as he recovers from a lingering health challenge.

I know this visit won’t have the same carefree magic as our 1970s trip, but faith assures me it holds a deeper kind of magic. This trip is rich with possibilities for connection, for healing that transcends Dad’s physical recovery. It's an opportunity to acknowledge regrets and seek peace, to celebrate love and express gratitude, to laugh and cry, and to reminisce and create new memories.

Ecclesiastes says it this way: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven." This trip, this season, like every one that preceded it, is a sacred time for mending hearts, sharing love, and finding grace in the cycles of life.