Legacy & Loss
It's been so long since I've written you. Full months of silence. What I have been learning here is that no one is coming to save us from our feelings or our grief - two teachers amongst many we need.
Let me start here…
Life ends. Always. Sometimes, unexpectedly. Sometimes, we or our loved ones know ahead of time. But always, life - breath in, breath out, heart beating in chest, ends.
Recently, my father-in-love passed. (I’ve never understood the term “in law” when the relationship is deeper than mere legality.) He lived a life beyond what I could see. Beyond what I knew. Our conversations were often brief. Yet, this year they became longer. More frequent. He knew his life was ending. So did I.
I’m also imagining that it’s just begun, too. Which is strange for me, as my focus has been on bringing Heaven to earth for so long… I often forget about a real Heaven. A life after this one. A life in which everlasting peace exists.
Everlasting peace.
As often as I pursue peace (and, it might just be all day every day), I haven’t found it to be everlasting earth side. Which is sometimes a bummer. Yet, I continue to pursue it. This calm in a never-ending storm. I’m thankful Dad gets this experience, now. He’s earned it.
On Winter (It’s Coming)
Something that has come up for me as I stand within loss beside those I love is that I have grieved a lot of things - a lot of life - over the last year. I’ve shared about my experience of burnout here and there, as I encountered her quite directly last fall. But I didn’t know that it would take me a year of hitting rock bottom and then climbing up from that place and space for a breath of air only to succumb to total darkness once more to really understand why I was so burned out.
Was it working too much, too hard, and too often?
Yes.
Was it parenting a high need child who didn’t sleep?
Yes.
Was it playing doctor - spending hours each week debunking signs and symptoms of chronic illness that made absolutely no freaking sense?
Also, yes.
I now know it wasn’t just these things, though. It was something much bigger. And, something much, much deeper.
You see, life had happened. Lots of it.
In this, I forgot to feel.
I ran through life. I walked when I couldn’t run. I crawled when I couldn’t walk. But in none of these spaces did I take the time to really and truly feel what I needed to feel. At some level I knew this, of course. I teach presence. I come alongside others who struggle with it, especially with those in the early childbearing years - but really all the years.
Yet, it was in walking alongside my husband and kids as Dad/Grampy made his way home that I realized I am great at loving others through their feelings. And, absolutely awful at giving myself the opportunity to feel, process, integrate, and digest my own.
I’m reminded of the shortest sentence in the Bible as I write this:
Jesus wept.
(Sigh.) Our Teacher felt, didn’t he?
Darling, no one is coming to save us from our feelings or our grief. Which is as awful as it is wonderful. Yet without winter - the opening in life for death to take place - there is no spring.
So my question to you is this…
Winter is coming. How will you be in this opening and safely feel what needs to be felt? Can you allow parts of you or your life to die off, so that when spring comes you might have renewed life?
A mantra I’m using right now as I part ways with the relentless grind is this:
I am safe.
Maybe it resonates. Maybe not.
All I know is that for the nervous system to heal - let alone life - we must feel safe. Period. End rant.
On (Writing About) Peace
Here’s some more food for thought…
We don’t have to endure winters alone. My simple prayer for both of us is that we may take refuge in the arms of one another, and self too.
As I wrap up this newsletter, I want to share with you just a small piece of what it looks like to have a Dark Night of the Soul, dear one. Except it wasn’t just one dark night. But over 365…
I posted this picture the other day on social media, and a colleague/acquaintance emphasized how good it was to see me smile.
This makes me think that as I walked through the dark, I must have stopped for a bit. It could have been any of those issues mentioned above causing this, of course. Mostly, I think it was me encountering my Shadow self…
You see, I used to believe everything happened for a reason. I don't know that I do anymore. I think sometimes things just happen. Perhaps lessons come out of the happenings, yes. Sure. That’s possible and highly plausible.
But tackling this belief meant leaning into where I thought God “sat” within it all. Honestly, it wasn’t pretty. Their silence has been palpable at many a bump in the road. Yet, I have come to understand that our peace is owned by us. Not God. Not any being in the Heavens, nor on earth.
Some days I'm a little annoyed that it can't be bought, loves. My therapist doesn't give me this. My herbs help, but don't keep me "there." It's an inside job.
Choosing Our Legacy
Until I knew that I knew that I knew my peace depended on me, I could not climb out of the hole, beloved. It’s something that came to me so clearly as we said our goodbyes last month. As I watched our loved one leave earth with such grace and ease. So, if you needed the reminder today... or any day... I hope it finds you. You are allowed to scrunch up your nose at the hard work of finding peace in the midst of what life has brought. You are. But, do it anyway.
Sending you wishes of owning your peace this holiday week, my friend. For from this alone a myriad of beautiful things can be birthed.
I love you,
J. 🌻 @thebarefootpreacher
P.S. I’ll dig into what that hard work looked like at another time, if you’d like. In the meantime, feel free to share this message on Legacy & Loss. It might just resonate with someone else who’s walked or rolled through a similar season.
If today’s words have been some sort of shining light in dark spaces and places, please feel free to email me back. You can also click subscribe below for one or two emails a month - most of them just like this.
Side note, I know many of you will be shopping for the upcoming holidays this weekend. If you are looking to purchase a book for a child in your life, I hope you’ll consider Bliss & Blue. Writing this book was one of the ways I began to make peace in my experience of parenting our wild, neurodivergently-fabulous child. It’s all about finding the good here and now. Which still exists, even when life and trauma say it doesn’t.
Did I mention I love you?
Keep going, beloved.
Keep going, keep going, keep going.
This hits hard. You speak of peace, and oh how I long, even ache, for that. I thought I was doing pretty good, and BOOM…grief ambush. This week holds my first Thanksgiving without my Rick. In perhaps some odd twist of fate, my 32nd anniversary would have been on Thanksgiving this year, as well. So, right now, as I still have some work to find that so far very elusive peace, I will settle for gratitude. Gratitude to God that I was blessed to have nearly 34 years of life with him. I love you, my friend. My heart sees your heart…
Sighing deeply. My dog, my friend, my friend's dog all died in 2 months. My sister is in ICU after walking around with only 25% of her heart working. My hubby's dementia has progressed to the point of hitting and punching me. I understand grief. Not feeling is sometimes the only way to get through the day and the night.
I know that grief sometimes pops up as anger at anything, people, politics, situations, a house rearranged in the middle of the night by a hubby with dementia. And feeling the grief is the only way past the anger.
Thanks for the reminder.
Annette