Sometimes when entering a new season we have a choice of what bring along in the new space that is unfolding and what we leave behind.

Years ago I started building a rubber band ball. It started with just one rubber band. As I found new rubber bands I would add them to the ball. With time this tiny bundle of bands began taking on shape and circular form. After a year it began to look like a small racquetball that when thrown to the floor would bounce wildly all across the room. After a couple years of rubber band accumulation it started gaining some girth and weight and when bounced on the floor it would cause a deep thud in my school office.

During year three various dramas and conflicts started occurring. Questions of whether I was a good Christian because I taught “secular” books like Shakespeare and Vonnegut barraged me. Conservative parents didn’t like my “too much grace” viewpoints and felt I needed to teach more of the doctrines of our tribe. The bands kept accumulating.

Secret meetings were held when over half the board was not present. More drama; more bands.

Cryptic messages were left in my mailbox telling me to “watch my back” or “we’re praying you will begin listening to god’s voice again.” The ball grew heavier and heavier.

When I was told that I could not talk about the way in which conference officials had treated me or how I’d never even been shown what was hidden away in my file I felt the ball’s heft.

When I finally made the difficult decision to leave the toxic place Id’ taken on many layers of anger, depression, sadness, and cynicism.

I moved to Washington joining a conservative small town church and become a youth pastor and Bible teacher. I carried the ball with me and continued adding to it.

We left Washington and I took on the position of community builder. I had my own church service, grew the community, built an amazing team, and successfully took a group from 60 people to 350. And yet, those secret meetings, conference calls, angry letters, nervous leadership and lack spinal fortitude from the administration left me adding more and more bands.

I left. I was given the heretic treatment and called all sorts of names from bleshemer, cult leader, pagan, and many more. My children were targeted and my wife treated with less and less kindness from her “friends”. The ball was becoming difficult to pick up.

As we packed the last of our belongings for Idaho– our new home– our new start my wife said to me, “Tony, there’s one last thing in the playroom you may want to consider tossing.”

“Ok,” I said as I walked toward the room wondering what it was I left.

As I walked I immediately saw it. It was sitting on the fireplace. Looking at it stirred something deep inside me. I walked over and held the ball– allowed it’s weight to sink into my hands. This ball is massive and messy. After 10 years of wear and tear it’s looking pretty ragged. I held it in my hands feeling the years of anger. I held it feeling the emotions of sadness, depression, the layers of hurt I’d caused and been caused. I held it there.

I wondered if I really should leave it. Truth is; it’s really a cool looking ball and a bit of a thing to behold. But then there’s the metaphor. And the metaphor is far more reaching than a simple conversation starter.

I want to be free. I want to finally leave behind this ball– these layers.

I make the choice and walk into the front yard. I heave the ball into the air– it’s so heavy, maybe 10 pounds now. It bounces hard on the ground causing a thud that vibrates the street.

I walk over to the dumpster– place it there for the photo op and then– I walk away.

Today I’m choosing to leave behind the old baggage before entering into the new season. New seasons are only new when we choose to stop allowing vicious, broken cycles to be repeated. I am choosing not to carry with me the layers of pain anymore. Anger, sadness, and cynicism may creep in but they will not spearhead my new direction. They will not steer the boat any longer.