I always find it difficult to let go. People. Places. Moments. Memories. Trouble is, I hold on until long after the life has bled out of time, and the decay of what I’m holding onto becomes a part of me.
I have difficulty pronouncing some things dead, especially relationships, but die they do, and as God tears the decay from my clutched hands, I mourn in pain.
Sometimes those relationships shouldn’t die, and sometimes they should even if I don’t want them to perish or can’t see why they are. Sometimes a “see you later,” turns into a prolonged goodbye and that goodbye turns into an unexpected funeral. The tears come, the tears dry up, the decay begins.
I can’t let go, but it’s time I learn. The purge I am experiencing right now is really a holy cleansing, and someday I hope I can see the reason. Right now, I can’t, but this cleansing has to happen. I have to let go… of dead or dying relationships, of the book I couldn’t finish on time (but still hope to finish), of bad habits, of nightmares… of everything that holds me back or down.
The best is yet to come, I know, and the anticipation is at times so painful I don’t think I can bear it, but worth every heavy sigh or tear, every sleepless night, every lonely moment. I’ve experienced the satisfaction of anticipation, but anticipation is the lesson Advent tries to teach me every year that I seem to miss.
Maybe this year, I will understand what it means to want something so badly I will willingly, gladly experience the aches and pains and empty myself to receive what’s on the other side.
It’s time to write some eulogies…to pronounce some things in my life dead. Then I must, must let go and live on.
O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.