All things have their season, and in their times all things pass under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to destroy, and a time to build. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather. A time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces. A time to get, and a time to lose. A time to keep, and a time to cast away. A time to rend, and a time to sew. A time to keep silence, and a time to speak. A time of love, and a time of hatred. A time of war, and a time of peace.
We speak of an holiday season, or the Christmas season. For some it is always a season of opportunity. In an inner city neighborhood on the day before Christmas, on this particular street there was not much traffic. On the street are three churches, and an elementary school, and lot after lot, after lot of where a house is no more. It had been snowing, and the roads not touched much. There is tree lawn after tree lawn that can accept the gift of someone's trash the garbage companies do not want. Sometimes it is construction/demolition materials, and this festive day it is car tires.
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