For more than a decade, I have written material published for all the world to read—and by all the world I mean dozens. Tens of thousands of words, I’ve written blog posts, chapters in academic books, ebooks, social media posts on topics from self-help, marketing, business, life, and of course Apple. I’ve tried for my tone, to be honest, encouraging, humorous, and transparent. Today, however, I just can’t write. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making the blogger’s confession, “I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while.” I’ve just lost the oomph it takes to write something worth reading, so I just haven’t written anything worth publishing.
This morning, my mind’s ear listened to the, all too familiar, voice of my dear friend Booth Andrews gently saying, “and this too shall pass.” A thousand times she has told me, “and this too shall pass.” For nearly as long as I’ve published anything, Booth and I have been friends, so there have been plenty of “life events” (a pretty, little moniker we use for the really painful moments of being alive) when she has reminded me, “and this too shall pass.” And it has.
We know the one certainty in life is change. Terrifying to some and liberating to others, change happens:
- In the depths of winter, spring comes.
- In the darkest hour, the sun rises.
- Grief eventually subsides.
- Heartache eventually softens.
- Summer eventually cools.
- Today becomes tomorrow.
Change is the rhythm of life, and it beats on endlessly.
For nearly two decades I’ve experienced every season with my brave and beautiful wife. We’ve had seasons of passion and moments of despair; we’ve laughed, cried, had adventures, and sat comfortably quiet. Through it all, we’ve known, and this too shall pass.
As my father laid dying, I did not want that season to end, but I was powerless to stop the moment from passing. A lifelong relationship moved from life to death. Eventually, the grief passed, and his legacy lives a new life in the stories we share about him. In fact, I remember a conversation we had when I was at a low point in my college career, we sat under his carport and as the rain gently peppered his lush green lawn, he offered the same gentle reminder, “and this too shall pass.”
I will write again. I am confident that the words will come and the passion restored because I know one thing to be true: this too shall pass.
So, wherever you stand today, whether on the peak of the mountain, in the lows in the valley, or wandering around in the desert, remember this too shall pass. Clench as we might, push as we want, change happens.