It's Just Not the Same . . .

I was at the meat counter this week and encountered a woman who has participated in the knitting circle at the Salvation Army Kroc Center. The first thing she said to me was, “It’s just not the same at the Kroc Center without June.” June Metcalf, the knitting circle’s founder and Mother Superior of sorts, died on Christmas Day, and my friend was right – it’s just not the same without her there, with her patient presence and abiding words of wisdom, “When in doubt, rip it out.”

When someone leaves our life circle, whether through death, relocation, or disinterest, it’s just not the same. We say “it can’t be so.” We shake our fists at the fates or at the God of the universe.  We look at the empty chair and we grieve. We allow some time to pass, and then one day, we look around and realize that “not the same” is different but perhaps not so bad after all. And sometimes, we do decide to change hair salons or find a new women’s Bible study group, because the loss inherent in “it’s just not the same” is just too much to bear. It happens.   

I was struck by how much I resonate with ”It’s just not the same.” Years ago, Friendly’s had an oriental chicken salad that I ordered on every visit, and then one day, instead of the crunchy tortilla bowl, it appeared on a plate with red and black strips of tortilla chips and no mandarin oranges. I was so aggravated – I liked it the way it was! The things that stick in your memory.

Here’s what I’ve discovered as I’ve (hopefully) matured past that oriental chicken salad meltdown. “It,” whatever “it” is, won’t be the same, but different isn’t necessarily bad. The lovely Madelyn Simone and I recently watched a tape of the first Shrek movie on the VCR, and although it’s hard for someone with a full shelf of VHS tapes to admit, there’s a real difference in technology between those tapes and the DVD’s of today. While I don’t want to go out and buy those older movies on DVD since I already have them, if I make a new purchase, I know that the DVD will give me the best viewing option – at least for today.

And there’s no way I’d trade my laptop for the Smith-Corona I learned to type on – although I wasn’t the first to jump on the computer bandwagon, the computer provides amazing resources for the casual and professional writer, definitely enhancing the writing experience.

In my mid-fifties, I stand in the gap between two worlds when it comes to change, especially in the world of technology. I’m working on a book project that explores a number of images of God, requiring me to look up scripture passages to support each chapter. As I sit at my computer desk, I have 4 translations of the Bible stacked to my left, and it’s been about a 50/50 split between turning the actual pages of the Bible, and clicking on one of the Internet-provided Bible programs, where I can have 30 translations virtually at my fingertips.  The screen is definitely not the same as the page, but cut and paste sure is easier than having to type every word.  I find myself clinging to the Book, but the new way is pulling hard to win my loyalty. There is a lot to unpack in that last sentence, but I’ll save that for a sermon, not the editorial page of the newspaper.

It was Pericles who said: “What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” That’s why the typewriter ribbon and the VHS tape are disposable – in the end, it’s the message, not the medium, that counts. What does matter is that the written word or visual image stirs the heart. It’s not the new knitting pattern that matters; no, it’s that the presence of June Metcalf created a welcoming space in our community and in our hearts. If that’s knitted into the fabric of our lives, then even if it’s not the same, it’s OK.