YESTERDAY IS ALREADY OURS!

January 2, 2019 (when the real work starts of moving forward)

Dear Friends,

It's the morning after the morning after, January 2nd, when we have to truly head back to work, and remember to put the correct year on our checks, if indeed we still write checks. For me today, that meant reviewing the chapters for discussion at my book group gathering tomorrow morning. We've been reading "The Other Side of Chaos: Breaking through when life is breaking down" by Margaret Silf. It's a fantastic book to read on your own, very useful for your inner work AND also very useful for dialog with others. I highly recommend you read it...no matter your age or circumstance. 

My favorite part of the reading this week is Chapter 14: Yesterday is Already Ours! And rather than do too much commentary, I thought I'd just share my favorite quotes from this chapter (see below). Silf manages to hit the nail on the head for me...getting at what holds me back most often..the fear of losing what I had. What a hopeful thought, that we can't lose what is already ours because we carry it forever in our hearts! I believe that now! And I'm glad for her way of reminding me of that.

I hope you read the book and I pray you'll be able to move forward knowing that what you treasure most can never be taken from your heart.

Blessings on you as you lean into the new year!   ~ jules (1/2/19)

• But what struck me most about Cadfael’s comment was his affirmation that “yesterday is already ours.” One of our biggest fears, and the cause of so much resistance to change, is that we think we are on the verge of losing, irrevocably, what we value from our past. Yes, like Cadfael, we have a past. To be human is to have a past. Some of that past may be about things we wish we could put behind us forever and wipe clean from the slate of memory. Other things we cherish and dread losing. To embrace the unknown future that change and transition hold out to us is, we feel, to risk losing all that we have invested our lives in so far.
• "Don’t be afraid that in letting go you are losing anything at all, because everything that matters, from this time of graced encounter, or from any other experience in your life, has been internalized and is firmly lodged in your heart. It is yours. It is a part of you. It travels with you and can never be lost.”
• Nothing can take from us the gift of all that our past has given us.
• We can’t lose it, and it will play a crucial part in shaping our future.
• The big question for me is this: when I look at the cherished item that I am trying to carry through the shifting scenes of my life, am I trying to turn back the clock, or am I just wanting to remind myself that the past is still an active part of me?
• The past is already ours; these photos and mementos remind us daily that this treasure that was ours is not lost but carried with us, not just in our bags but in our hearts. And the future is ours, too, to explore and, we hope, to make a contribution to. This isn’t nostalgia. This is wisdom.

And questions from Margaret Silf to ponder:

What treasure from your own past experiences or relationships do you feel has been internalized and forever absorbed into your heart? Notice how it continues to enrich you. It has been said that our memories are like a garden from which we can never be expelled. Which memories in your soul’s garden are life-giving, making you feel more fully alive in the present moment and more hopeful for the future? Is there anything that you cling to from the past that you feel may be holding you prisoner in false nostalgia and blocking your way ahead? The yearning to go back to what has passed can take over our consciousness to the extent that we actually fail to see, let alone respond to, the beckoning of the future and the joys and challenges of the present moment. Do you detect any symptoms like these in your present situation? 

The Timelessness of Grief.

December 5, 2017

This is what grief is like.

It's a day like any other day, nothing special. It's not anyone's birthday or anniversary of anything. It's not a holiday; just nothing. I'm minding my own business, working from home as I have for nearly four years now. I'm not thinking of how sad my life is. I'm just thinking, how can I get my to-do list done.

Then out of nowhere, the feeling of him in the world pops into my heart. I try to brush it off and then I see his face, his sparkling eyes and hear his laughter. Suddenly tears are running down my face. I miss my little Hans sooo much! It is tangible, real! I feel like I lost him yesterday. And that's not unusual really. I feel like his brothers were just little boys yesterday too. This moment lasts for a minute or fifty. In that span of time, I relive the magic of having him, of getting to be his mother and now his ambassador to the world. I've been doing my best to tell them--live life fully, stay present and cherish your loved ones. Life is short! Enjoy it! I'm doing my best! In that moment, I know he is still here...in my heart but it still hurts too.

The gift and the loss are all wrapped up together. Pain and joy, loneliness and gratitude, disconnected and connected--all at the same time! That's what grief is like. 17 years is like a day and a day is like 17 years! It is timeless and messy! It doesn't have an agenda but to remind us how precious life is, how precious our loved ones are and to grab the moments when we can.

And one more thing...to be kind and patient with those who grieve. Letting go, remembering and celebrating while also feeling the pain....it all takes time and courage and strength. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Everyone carries a heavy load.

The Basement Excavation: Facing Grief and Finding Treasure

The Basement Excavation—Day #17

So far I’ve been faithful to my commitment to go through two boxes each day. There is a growing stack of empty boxes in one corner. I hope that empty stack continues to grow but not every box gets thrown. Though clearing is the ultimate goal, throwing it all out is not the immediate goal. The idea is to go through everything, taking the time to painstakingly acknowledge all of it and get a grip on the reality of what IT really is.

In some cases, I’ve been able to throw a whole box right away. I am grateful for those easy ones, where the choice is obvious. In others, I’ve opened, looked through a few things and said, “Okay, I’m not ready for that one until later.” This is an acceptable response but I know eventually I will have to deal with those too. And then there have been those moments of profound encounter with something deep within.

Case #1: A gift from Dad

Two weeks ago, on a Saturday, I was leading a writing workshop on journaling. As part of my presentation I told those who came about what I had learned from my dad about the Lord’s Prayer. I was telling them how he used to encourage people to use the Lord’s Prayer to pray about specific things in their life. The next day I am down in the basement. I open a box and sitting right on top is the old Lutheran Standard article which my dad wrote about just that. With tears of gratitude I grabbed the article, and closed the rest of the box (for now). It was if Dad was encouraging me, letting me know he was happy to share this gift with me. I scanned it into my computer for future reference and to save it in new way. I have no idea what will happened to that article in the next generation but by then I will have shared it with many and the ripples will be enough inheritance to share.

Case #2: Encountering Hans 15 years later

Just a few days ago, I had a really busy day but in the free hour that I had I decided to suck it up and head down to do a few boxes. I saw an unmarked box in the middle of the room and wanted to have an idea what was in it. Initially unreachable, I climbed and squeezed in to where I could get a look. I opened the box and there was Hans’ stuff. As the tears started to form, I sifted through the random collection of junk. I have begun to notice that the more ridiculous the item, the more it triggers my grief. Why? Because the ridiculous stuff, the stuff that holds no intrinsic value is there only because my son cared about it. This box of apparent nothingness is classic Hans. And yet we still have to let go of most of it. Letting go brings a new wellspring of grief…that very really emotion as we experience the physical separation once again. I can’t express enough how physical grief really is.

Initially I find it odd and unsettling that such a box of junk can mean so much to me but there it is. Without the physical connection to my son, these stupid little things taking up space clearly give me a sudden material connection to the reality of my sons’ life before and now.

The sudden desire to speak to him, to see him in the flesh again is unbearable and the tears are unstoppable. This is the part of de-cluttering that takes more than determination and a good self-help book to conquer. This takes a breath and a prayer and some emotional support. Here I must stand with the grief, allow the tears and honor the pain as well as the joy. I may have to take a couple days to process before I am ready to let go. I may need to bring my husband alongside for this part of the journey. And even so, there is hope just in the fact that I am able to choose this work.