"Blue Bell", The family boat, an all wood 1960's model that my Grandpa had
custom built had to be torn apart. The boat was a catalyst for the many fond memories of
summer boat rides, water skiing, lots of fishing not only for my siblings and
cousins, but first for my dad and his siblings. It was a difficult for the
family to see Dad taking the boat apart, but we understood it was necessary.
As I helped remove screws so Dad could use the saw to tear the
boat into manageable pieces (to take to the dump) I reflected on how so
often in life, we have to let go. We even have to participate in the
difficult process of doing so (there's no magic wand we wave and
"poof", we've let go).
Sometimes the demolition and letting go is a choice that we get to make
and at other times, like so many in Calgary, High River and other places in
southern AB have found out - it's not a choice at all - it can feel quite imposed
on us.
It has been quite awhile since I've posted something new here on
Mirrorly aMusing. - I've started and stopped a few times but frankly, since I
arrived home in December, the waves
of "creativity" really haven't swept me away like they used
to. But I'm back writing and I'm back with the topic that I think will
always be a source of reflection for me and for all of us today: letting go.
The flooding disaster here has really been cause for many to stop
and re-evaluate what is truly valuable and precious in our lives.
It is so disheartening and stressful to experience such loss. What has been
amazing though is that in the face of this loss came the sunshine of neighborly
concern and self-sacrifice to help others meet their needs. All of a
sudden the common mentality of "me" went to "we", even
those who could not physically or financially help with flood
relief/cleanup felt connected to the community and kept all those involved in
their thoughts, prayers and conversations with others.
When we lose something, there is an opening for something new.
Through the pain, comes newness of life. I saw this picture our
mayor tweeted a little while ago:
Do we ever considered God and our relationship
with Him as one of those precious things in our lives that
remains, even in tragedy? Often times what happens to us in the
physical realm can often be paralleled in the spiritual. Just like
in our houses, sometimes we collect a lot of "stuff" - necessary and
unnecessary, sentimental and unsentimental. We do this within
ourselves too - our tendency towards selfishness, dwelling on
satisfying our desires, our dreams
and goals - sometimes these things get in the way of "newness of
life". At times we may be fortunate to see within ourselves what
needs to be removed so that the light of Christ can shine brighter through us
but other times, like a flood or any sudden event, whatever it was that we were
clinging to (consciously or not) is swept away from us and we are left
with a hole in our hearts.
What do we do with that hole? The emptiness that appears after a break-up,
death of a family member, a traumatic change in life, major disappointments?
Are we left marveling at the precious things that still remain - God's
everlasting goodness, our ability to breathe, love, feel the warmth of the sun
or are we caught up in desperately trying to fill that hole? Do we have
hope that as we stand vulnerable, with seemingly nothing left - that we are
held? That God will look after us in our time of need and promises to
never leave our side?
Faith is so important here.
Pope Francis just came out with his first encyclical letter on faith and
light: Lumen Fidei.
“Believing means
entrusting oneself to a merciful love which always accepts and pardons, which
sustains and directs our lives, and which shows its power by its ability to
make straight the crooked lines of our history” (Lumen Fidei 13).
I love that phrase – make straight the crooked lines of our
history. Sometimes I feel like we go through life drawing with a big wax
crayon with the astuteness of a three-year-old.
But the Lord comes with His offer of peace, love, protection and a plan
for a future with Him beyond our wildest dreams. He makes our portraits beautiful, even the
holes or tears that appear in our canvas because we were coloring or erasing
way too hard.
As I continue on this
journey of discernment, discerning how I was built and how I fit in God’s mission
for the world I am thankful for the times in my life where everything seems
like it’s been taken apart (like the boat).
Sometimes we need to be taken apart, toss away what doesn’t matter, keep
what is precious and sacred and wait to see how the Lord to put us back
together, and He will indeed put us
back together, He loves us too much not to! Because
of Jesus, with death comes life and despite our cracks and flaws,
He is able to make of us very fine living stones for His Kingdom.
Yet it is precisely in contemplating Jesus’ death that faith grows
stronger and receives a dazzling light; then it is revealed as faith in
Christ’s steadfast love for us, a love capable of embracing death to bring us
salvation. This love, which did not recoil before death in order to show its
depth, is something I can believe in; Christ’s total self-gift overcomes every
suspicion and enables me to entrust myself to him completely” (Lumen Fidei 16).
