Over the past few weeks, I've thought of my loss and seen a lot of other people lose things that mattered to them. Sometimes it's simple things that are just things, possessions. Sometimes, it's opportunities. Sometimes unfortunately it's actually people or chances for relationships with people dear to us. I miss my grandparents. There are times I'd like to call them up and ask them questions, and if a vocational opportunity I'm pursuing opens up, it would have been nice to call them up and give them some good news. Not all loss is tragic. We usually think of the tragic ones, but I am old enough and wise enough to realize that sometimes it's time to thank God for the unanswered prayer or unrealized opportunity. Neither my sister nor I are upset that any of our past relationships didn't work out as we hoped. Most of them were just people we used to know, and we're glad of the blessings. If we're wrong, maybe God will restore our loss, but maybe, just maybe He really does have something better to give us.
Yesterday, I accompanied a group at the behest of the Forest Service to the peak. Most of them were minors, but I felt good when I would decide to stop briefly and some of these much younger and sleeker youths were excited to have a rejoinder. We took our time and ended up on our hands and knees over a short portion of the trail covered by a recent rockslide. I took the opportunity to remind them or teach them for the first time that the ultimate goal of every hike is to return to the car safely. When we reached the bottom, this philosophy was reinforced. At the bottom, Vegas Metro Search and Rescue put together a group to go up looking for two teenagers who went missing. Of course, since I was up there today, they were interested in talking to me in case I'd seen anything useful, which I unfortunately did not. I hope they find the lost boys. I fear for them.
All around the neighborhood, there are posters and papers asking for help in recovering lost pets. I haven't seen any predators in my zip code for a while, but I know they are there, and odds are these lost pets are long dead. I've lost my share of dogs, and once I lost a Kat that was very dear to me, and I hurt for these people, because I know what it's like to lose a member of your family. I look at the posters, the pictures, and the pets, and each time I hope I will be able to find one of the lost and help return it to those who love their lost Kats, but so far no luck.
Elsewhere, opportunities of a lifetime slip away. Both of the volunteer supervisors up on the mountain have missed out. One of them actually injured herself; the story she told me doesn't jive, but the pain is certainly obviously real. Now, she probably won't be able to hike to the peak before the winter prohibits a safe journey, assuming we get a normal winter here. The other because she doesn't answer the phone or text messages has missed out on chances to leave the office and hike. I myself missed a deadline for an opportunity, and although it's not permanently withdrawn, I have to wait at least until next year to try again. Weather sometimes gets in the way, and sometimes it's traffic. Those are less tragic. The most tragic opportunities lost are those that people decide to pass up, not realizing that this is the opportune moment. I know I've invited plenty of people to things who decided not to come, decided not to join me, and sometimes I went anyway. It's just sad because our lives could be so much better until we decide not to allow them to be that way.
I know there is a social acceptable period of mourning for things lost, and for some things that period has expired. So, I forget about them long enough to forget why I need to. I busy myself with work, with hiking, and in conversations. I also bury myself in books, rereading Thomas More and the works of Dickens, and of course perusing the words of prophets and scripture in search for meaning and direction. The best thing about my belief system is that it teaches us that lost things can sometimes be returned or found and that other things that are forever lost can be replaced or upgraded with better ones. This truly is a gospel of the restoration of all things. It reminds us that Job had more in the end than the beginning, that Lazarus was blessed and comforted for his privations compared to the rich man, that on God's right hand and in His right hand are goodly and good and glorious things. Sometimes He prunes and dungs and digs about in the garden, and sometimes that feels painful to lose things or parts of ourselves that were dear to us, but when the fruit finally appears, it is glorious and wonderful.
Yesterday I harvested the only pomegranate and the only peach I got to keep from my trees this year and enjoyed both of them tremendously. I know that it's about more than the actual fruit for me. I love my garden. The fruit was a bonus. It was also a very tasty one. I lost quite a few fruits for various reasons, and maybe it made the fruit I was allowed to keep seem all the more savory. Maybe losing those things made the remainder all that better quality. When we can focus on a few really good things, maybe they're better than when all sorts of putative fruits and pursuits encumber the branches of our lives. Sometimes losing things can be good. Four years ago, I "lost" something, and it led to a better place, better opportunities, and although one particular fruit for which I hoped appears to have shriveled up on the vine, even the consolation opportunity seems good. It won't give me 8 of 8, but it will make 6 of 8 and 7 of 8 even better, and that's good too. Sometimes in order to get something better we have to lose something good.
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