Grim? Morbid? A touch goth? Perhaps it seems that way when I actually verbalize it.
But it's funny,... the thought isn't an anxiety that I constantly keep in tow.
It isn't a pleasant thought, for sure. But it isn't something that grips me and renders me anxious, controlling, sad, or altogether a mess. And I find that interesting.
Since being married, I realized something that many realize when they have something precious and wonderful....
I could lose this precious wonderful thing. And I don't have control over that.
Because regardless of what you believe, we know this to be true - death is inevitable. We will all die, and we have relatively little, if any, control over the death of our beloveds, or ourselves.
And this thought should cause great anxiety if that is all there is to it. So much so, that if I didn't have the convictions I do, I would never want to have kids. I wouldn't want to bring them into the world just for them to perish, eventually.
And that is the thing about living this absolute utter TRASH (just gotta say it) illusion that our society has created.
"We are in control."
This is an illusion. The more we believe it, the less it is true in our lives. The more we strive for it, the crazier, meaner, and weirder, we become. This lie creates utterly anxious humans with terrible mental states and a compulsion to control every thing and everyone in their lives. I would know... because I've done the dang thing.
You will never find peace or happiness or joy that lasts more than a moment living this way. You won't.
The only path forward is to partake in the letting go. To drink deeply of this cup of surrender. Each day. Each moment.
Because what is this life but issues outside of our control? What is this earth but the mix of goodness and tragedy?
Whether or not you believe that humanity caused our own hell here, this is the reality for us all.
So either way, the only out is this acceptance. This surrender. This decision to let go.
The other option is extreme anxiety, numbing the pain, fear, anger, hatred, and blame.
The letting go, however, looks like a soul moving through. Through the pain, through the grief to the acceptance of what we cannot change, a trust that the pain isn't permanent, and that it is only allowed for our best (eternal) good.
The letting go looks like admitting our weakness. Admitting our inability to control all these things. Admitting we don't actually know what is best for our souls. We don't know what will create in us the most virtue, the most love, and if you're a Christian - the most longing for Heaven.
As I have encountered many who are at the crux of loss the last two years - I realize this:
I don't understand much. I understand far less than I used to think I understood.
The only thing I understand is that I believe wholly in a God who suffered for love of us.
I believe in a God who was Crucified by Love.
And I know I want to look like Him. Because He loved perfectly. There was complete love, a complete desire for Heaven for each soul, and the ability to let go of outcomes.
"Not my will, but Your will be done."
And this means that to love Frankie perfectly, I have to let her go. Because I actually don't understand what is best for her. I actually don't know what path the Lord has her on.
But I trust that if I love as hard as I can with as much selflessness as I can, and at the same time, know that I have NO control over her outcomes, I will have done what I was asked to do.
And that it will be the BEST path for her. And it might be painful. For us both. But it might be that the pain is the only way we both care more about Heaven than the things of Earth (that are good and also don't last).
The pain might indicate that this earth is your ship and not your home. And that the pain is only permitted in the sense that it can be useful. And it is only useful in the sense that we allow it to make us look more like the One Crucified by Love.
The One Crucified by Love is void of selfishness and ONLY has room for Love of God and Love of Others.
And do you know where the One Crucified by Love Is?
Heaven.
So what is Heaven? Being crucified by love so that you can no longer be weighed down by whims, desires, impulses, anxieties, fears, or anger. The free acceptance of both loss and goodness results in us looking at ourselves less. Which means we worry less.
Because we have let go of what we cannot control.
And put what we can't control into the hands of the One, who I believe, has control. And that any suffering allowed can become useful. And that suffering also has an end.
So who am I to stop the Lord if he desires to bring this sweet girl to Himself? Wouldn't He know the perfect time to do that? Wouldn't He do it so that she would go when it would be most efficacious for her soul and everyone who knew her?
I believe He would.
And it gives me the freedom to think about it... and then let go. Not to desire it, not to even like the idea of it, but to know that loss can strike, tragedy can come, and I can still grieve and accept. I can still have joy and meaning.
I think about my daughter dying almost every day. And that led to this:
- I am more trusting
- I am actually less controlling
- I am desiring to conform to my ultimate Beloved Spouse (Christ) and suffer when Invited to for love of others (for their good)
- I am more appreciative of each moment I get with this treasure of a child
- I am more focused on Heaven than on this place, and that informs how I speak, what I do, how I desire to act, and how I desire to love people while I am here.
Morbid, perhaps.
Or maybe the Catholic Church was onto something when they said "Memento Mori".
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