Reflection offered at the Bethel College Faculty Meeting Sept. 6, 2022. It is a much shortened version of my sermon by the same name delivered August, 7, 2022.

I have always loved Joni Mitchell's song Both Sides Now and was mesmerized by her recent performance of the song at the Newport Folk Festival this past July. This song makes me think about the events in our lives that change us. Those mile markers that cause our life to forever be defined as before and after.

Joni was only 23 years old when she wrote that song in 1967 - but she had already had her fair share of befores and afters. As a child, she suffered from Polio. By the time she was in her early twenties, she'd had a daughter out of wedlock, given the child up for adoption, married Chuck Mitchell, and divorced him a year-and-a-half later. One has to think that these experiences were on her mind as she wrote the words, "I've looked at love from both sides now. From give and take and still somehow it's loves illusions I recall I really don't know love at all."

Joni went on to have an incredible career as a musician. Rolling Stone magazine called her one of the greatest songwriters ever. She received 9 Grammy awards and was inducted into the Rock and Roll hall of fame in 1997. That same year she was reunited with her daughter, and she stopped writing music. In a 2004 interview, Joni explained that the years her daughter had been lost to her, she felt like she had mothered the world with her music. And now that she had her family back, she no longer felt compelled to write songs. She was, however, revisiting some of her old songs and creating compilation CD's with new recordings of them. One reviewer wrote, "The 2000 recording of "Both Sides Now" is sadder but wiser, weary of the tensions but aware of the mysteries.

On March 31, 2015, Joni was found unconscious in her home, having suffered a brain aneurysm. She survived but was unable to even walk or talk, let alone play the guitar or sing.

She recently compared her experience to "a return to infancy." And explained that she relearned to play guitar by watching videos of herself to see where she put her fingers. Her recovery was nothing short of a miracle, and even more miraculous was her surprise return to the stage Sunday, July 24, at the Newport Folk Festival. 5 days after that performance, I celebrated the three-year anniversary of my cornea transplant. For those who don't know, I have had complications with my eyes since birth. I was born with glaucoma and am legally blind in my left eye. I've had numerous surgeries on both eyes but none so scary to me as the cornea transplant in my good eye three years ago. I knew a few years prior to the surgery that it was imminent but had to wait until my vision was bad enough that the surgeon would take the risk. The years leading up to the surgery were frustrating, to say the least. As my vision declined, I had to rely more and more on family members to do things for me. At first, it was small things like reading the instructions on the backs of packages or reading the menu when we were out to eat. But towards the end, my mom, husband Tim, and daughter Francie were having to drive me to work and doctor's appointments. For someone who bought their first car at 18 and never relied on anyone to get them anywhere, that was tough. All I wanted at the time was to get through that surgery. And once I had the surgery, all I wanted was to get through the three straight days lying flat on my back and the weeks of recovery after that with the limited activity that followed.

But now, when I reflect back on that time in my life, I am filled with gratitude. Things that frustrated me before I look back on with a kind of fondness. I think of my husband putting drops in my eye in the days following the surgery, and my mother staying at my house to prepare meals for everyone, and all the friends who sent cards, and flowers, and food, and my daughter Francie who read me the entire Percy Jackson series to keep me from being bored to death while I was lying flat on my back.

I have come to the conclusion that life happens between the sides. We are always so concerned with getting through something. We think life will be easier or better once we get through this semester, or through this illness, or finished with this project. And we neglect being fully present in the moment. My wish for you this semester is that if you find yourself struggling with one of those life-changing experiences or if you find yourself wanting to just get through the semester -  remember that life happens between the sides.