Saturday, March 7, 2015

Un-apologetically Grateful......

Hello readers...............I found this entry in my draft pile and feel like it needs to be shared.  I found myself copying and pasting it into an email to a friend, and thought- I really need to just post it.  I wrote this in July 2014.  And I share it with you now...........

~~~~~~~~~A Saturday in July 2014~~~~~~~~

I sat in the bottom of a shallow grave today, using a pick-axe to break up the stubborn Tennessee clay soil and then scooping it out with my hands.  It had been raining for 24 hours straight, it was muddy, it was hard labor.  I was not alone.  I had help.  But at this moment when I was at the bottom of the grave, I was alone and stewing in loss.  My dog had just died and I felt 100 years old.

Between July 2013 and July 2014, I have been through a year full of loss.  I am debating whether to line it all out here, but then it defeats the purpose of what I am trying to say.

You see, tonight I went to Mass (remember- I'm a proud Catholic!)  I went to Mass to see one of my favorite priests say his farewells before moving on to his next posting.  I sat in my regular seat, thinking of loss.  How tired I am of loss.  Friends moving, people dying, jobs ending, faithful dogs passing on............the list went on.  Again sitting in my seat, I felt 100 years old; all alone and completely surrounded.

Father Charlie talked to us about gratefulness.  Not about loss, not about how much he would miss us, not about the great sadness of his departure.  He talked about how grateful he is to us and for us.  And sitting there, hearing his words, I connected my overwhelming feeling of loss and grief to a feeling of gratefulness with what I have gained from that all the loss.

I am un-apologetically grateful for every loss.  I am grateful for every moment of the last year, where I have said goodbye, or not even had the chance to say goodbye, or plain refused to say goodbye.

We lose so much, and with each loss, it gets harder.  It is harder to focus on the gratefulness.  It is harder to focus on the good that comes from loss.  Sometimes you see it immediately.  Sometimes it takes years.

Tonight, I see my loss, and I see my gain.  And in all things, I find balance.