That Time of Year (repost from 2017)

Repost from October 2017: The beanie, the dark green, especially warm one, came out of the suitcase today, landed on my head as my body, soul and spirit sat where both the land and the waves find their end as the sun rose. It, the beanie cap, wasn’t needed for the whole day, but was employed for about 2 hours this morning and back on by 6pm.

This morning one beach walker (definitely envision mall-walker in shorts) commented to me on it being ‘that time of year’.

‘That time of year’—a phrase that implies we all know what’s happening or even what’s coming. There are seasonally-appropriate inferences with ‘that time of year’ but I’ve been mulling the idea all day—that most of us have ‘that time of year’ melancholy memories unique to us; some of us (probably most of us) have concerns and aches that are directly tied to ‘that time of year’ when _____ happened; when we lost _____; when The event occurred; or even when That relationship started (yah-happy times) or ended (ugh-let me cry).

‘That time of year’ is one of those phrases though that we could redefine and use to be a Christian Community identifier...when, as we choose to live in a community of life and faith and belief, we build these mutual memories that identify we belong together. And as the years go by, and some friends may have to go and come for various reasons, we all teach and learn the rhythm of our community’s ‘that time of year’.

For the many years we lived in Nashville, I was blessed to be part of a community of guys nicknamed the Whammy Bar. It’s both a place and a group; musical (especially-guitar-player) insiders ‘get it’ and that’s the point. It’s a unique, though never closed off but always expanding, WE. Many are believers though there’s no secret handshake or favorite verse recital. It’s a gathering for life and stories and encouragement. Tonight is ‘that time of year’ for Doc-toberfest, an annual brat-n-beers kind of night. It’s low key, yet looked forward to every year by the whole WB posse.
I’ll miss it tonight.
No complaints, just a wistful ache.
It’s now been nearly 3.5 years since I moved my family away, making me part of the go-ing that happens to a community.

Like I said, I miss it; not the brats n such, but the insider, unique identification. Lightheartedly, I’ve been awarded ‘emeritus status’ at the Whammy Bar which means a stool is always there for me if/when I return. I’m realizing now, today, this week, this season, that it’s time for a new community-building-pursuit where I reside and exist and function now and that, in time, can have our own ‘that time of year’.

I’ll probably need the beanie tomorrow morning too. The sunrise is certainly worth ‘braving’ the cool beach air.