It has been a few years that have been experiencing the weight, inevitability and frailties of life. They have been shown to us through local, regional and global outbreaks; through the loss of precious things, precious time and precious people. We are discovering that there is a lot to grapple with in life. There are situations and circumstances that leave us with both wonder and an insatiable need to resolve what was…what could’ve and should’ve been. Parents are navigating parenthood, children have become caregivers, the elders are capturing moments to crystalize and the world is spinning on; sometimes carefully and other times chaotically. Rhyme and reason are overlapping and you find yourself revisiting your faith, your convictions and your life philosophy. And why? Because life has challenged it all. Life has caused us to come face-to-face with what we were always told (be it scripture or by elders). We were told that the days would become violent, self-serving and almost nomadic. Maybe we heard it as theory. Maybe we numbed ourselves to the prophesy and were all too preoccupied with our pursuits. The vicarious living that we once did has become a careful calculating tip toe through the fields. It’s almost as if we don’t want to step on any landmines. We have grieved, felt trauma roll through our bodies and anger seize in our veins. We have also built more community, engaged in more conversation and gain new sensitivity to the world around us. We are learning to live and release.

I have become bedfellows with pain, devastating loss and the reality of aging. I have had to take aggressive steps to healing to stay engaged with the world around me and to maintain a desire to remain here. I know many of you echo the same. We. Are. Surviving. And while we survive we are building new ways to cope, move forward with our voids and dream new dreams.

As someone who was stricken with fear as a kid and who would lie under the covers making pleas and deals with God I’ve had to come to terms with her (that little girl). We’ve had to talk. Some forty years later I’ve had to reckon with her and give her a few loving big girl talks. Life happens. Grace is ever present. Anger, confusion and sadness are accepted and understood.

I’m healing…from a LOT. I know you are too. I’m living with a limp and it will not go away. And that is fine, it is a language of love to me (what I had and what I’ve treasured). I am learning to find a new rhythm to breathe and let my eyes have courage to see vision. Moreover in this healing and renaissance of life I am learning to look at crisis as it is; maybe even to embrace ahead of time that along with my love, my joys and my precious moments I will also one day have to release, let go and say goodbye. And it may happen again…and again… Although I don’t WANT that I understand that life will bring me bitters and sweets. I am learning how to mourn without losing myself….and that is a tall tall order. Maybe it’s even a life long thing but at least I no longer have my eyes closed like the “little me” would because she was scared of things outside of her little world. I’m learning to tell that little girl that its okay to open your eyes, to feel even a bit of paralysis because only by allowing the flooding moments to rush inside can we learn how to navigate life’s terrains a bit better. With my faith I am daring it to make God bigger, deeper and greater in me. I need to see that He truly deserves the titles that He carries. He does.

Along with my faith I have to be extremely grateful for my therapist. I know that she was meant for me because I found her literature a year before I would truly need it. She’s been instrumental in helping me to “uncover my eyes”.

One of my favorite authors and thought leaders, Susan Cain, released an article not long ago for parents who are now empty nesters. She validated the need to grieve that transition but she also presented another thought.

She writes,

“I’m struck by how little our culture prepares us for the empty nest, and for all the moments of letting go (the bereavements, the breakups, our own mortality, etc.) that thread through our lifetimes. And it strikes me that the time to let go is not when our children leave for college, but when they leave the womb. Not only because it will make the empty nest easier, but because it makes us better parents while they’re still here.”

Outside of this norm there are parents who didn’t get to see the full bloom of their children so this sentiment may strike you differently. You see how “release” does? It can be complicated and different for all of us. Our prayer and hope is that when we open our eyes (or even peek through them) we will find the grace of God available to help us waddle through these undesired waters. Through that waddle we will one day find footing again.

Y’all it will be exhausting to do this again and again; losing and longing. Whatever you do find your rhythm and that grace. Face life and know that the “let go” will come. Everything and everyone is truly a loaner to one another. When releasing times come may you have support to lean on; people that don’t try to fix you but just let you wade and waddle. May their presence and witness to your journey be more than enough.

Here’s to a life still worth living. We won’t seek to replace our losses but we will seek to gain new vision and memorial for the love we share/shared with others.

I pray that this blog entry provides some insight and an exhale.

Be Well. Be Whole.