A Season for Everything
To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven
In the Fall of 1969, I was in the eighth grade and working diligently toward my Eagle Scout. One of the requirements was the Camping Merit Badge. Generally it involved camping all alone (mostly) for a couple of nights. I say mostly alone because Mr. V.G. Rollins, the Scout Master and a few other adults were nearby to inspect how I setup camp, made the fire, cooked my food and cleaned up after a meal, etc. I assume they were there also just in case something happened that was outside the capability of a 14-year old.
I had always (according to my parents) been an independent type, always wanting to do things myself without help. So, a solo camping trip was exactly my kind of a merit badge requirement!
I know there were several other boys on that campout that weekend, but I don’t recall how many or who else was there. After much preparation, we arrived at the campground and were directed to our respective piece of earth where we would do battle with the elements and the usual fears through which boys of that age (and too many men) wrestle. Per the Boy Scout Handbook, I quickly setup camp. However, not that quick, because I was a perfectionist. Nevertheless, I successfully put up my tent all by myself, gathered firewood, built a fire, cooked dinner and called for Mr. Rollins to inspect the camp as well as sample dinner (that was a requirement as I remember!) So far, everything was going very well and according to plan ... of course.
After dinner, I boiled water to sanitize the dishes; got everything clean and set-aside to dry. Next, I picked up the pot of boiling water to dump it out. However, somewhere in the process, I must have stumbled because I dumped some of the water down my left hiking boot. As you can imagine, there was instant intense pain.
My first reaction was to take off my boot and pull off the steaming sock. With that sock came numerous layers of skin from the front of my ankle. I then started to hobble toward the adult campsite. (Remember I was fiercely independent!) Thankfully, I didn’t have to go far because the adults came running toward me.
After an in-the-woods triage that seemed to last forever, I wouldn’t be surprised if I said something stupid like, “I’m good, I’d like to stay and finish the requirements of the merit badge.” Thankfully, wiser men prevailed and Mr Rollins drove me in his Volkswagen Beetle to a hospital nearby. I don’t know for sure, but I assume it was the only medical facility in Hallsville, Texas, a booming metropolis. (According to the interwebs, the population was between 684 and 1038 in 1969.)
After some initial treatment and ineffective pain-relief, Mr Rollins drove me home. In the year, 1969, there were no mobile phones and a call all the way from Hallsville to my home in Longview (about 12 miles) would have cost a fortune. So, I don’t know if Mr. Rollins called my parents or just showed up at the door after dark carrying me. Regardless, I am very grateful to him for taking care of me! Sadly he passed in 2016.
Although I was now home, it was just the start of many weeks of incredible pain as my ankle healed. There are few things as painful and long-lasting as a deep burn. I have been told natural child-birth and kidney stones are the worst pain. I have had neither so I can’t comment on the intensity. But both of those are over in hours or at most a few days. A deep burn takes many, many weeks or months to heal and hurts the whole time.
Not only was my ankle in incredible pain, but I had to use crutches for most of the healing process which caused pain in my armpits, etc. But ... I was fiercely independent!
Back in the day, students didn’t use backpacks to carry books, etc. like they do today. So, carrying books and navigating campus on crutches was very difficult. Furthermore, the Judson Junior High School campus was rather hilly (up hill no matter to which class I was heading) which exacerbated my challenges.
Notwithstanding my burned ankle, being a typical 14-year old boy, my emotions were a roller-coaster. On one hand, I was and wanted to be independent; I didn’t need or want any help. On the other hand, I wanted someone to help me, especially one or more of the cute girls in my class. Apparently, my internal confliction must have communicated “leave me alone.” Because that is just what they did! I struggled my way to each class on crutches carrying my books on crutches ... alone.
Fast forward ... my ankle healed and four years later I graduated from High School in 1974. Then a couple of months later, my father died from a heart attack. Once again, I had a choice, “suck-it-up” and “deal-with-it” by myself, or let others in to help with the pain. Any guess which path I chose???
Over the years, God has given me many opportunities to choose wisely when dealing with pain, physical or emotional. However too many times I “chose poorly” much like the line in the movie, “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” One of the recent “opportunities” was on my 65th birthday when my youngest daughter was killed in a vehicle accident. Maybe I am learning. I think I did better with this one.
Despite Solomon’s many many poor choices, he is credited with being the wisest. He wrote in the Ecclesiastes 3.1-8:
To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to break down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to count as lost,
a time to keep and a time to discard,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
There is a time for independence and a time for dependence. Living perpetually in either is not healthy nor God honoring.
Choose wisely!