My best friend Johnny and I were on the way back from seeing the movie Wild. During the drive home, while for a few moments sitting in silence in the passenger seat next to him, I became aware that I was feeling sad.
Grief is not sadness. I get sad when I break a nail, or when the shoe I want is not available in my size. I get sad when someone calls my son a wimp. But this feels different. Grief is so much more complex.
I was left with a fatigued sense that, somehow, things had gone horribly wrong. Christmas was supposed to be an exciting and enchanting experience for our little one, yet I had the distinct feeling that he had ruined it.
I had always promised myself the next time I had to face heartbreak, I would get closure so that moving on would be easier (like it ever is). This time, even though I got my closure, moving on is still difficult as ever.
Enjoy the awesome stuff and make the most of it. And when the not-so-awesome stuff comes your way... allow it to happen, do your best to stay calm, deal with it, and know that it's on its way out, too.
There are plenty of folks who just feel blue, but can't pinpoint why. So how do you navigate this time with a little more ease, grace and holiday spirit? And how can you be more supportive of those around you who are experiencing their own ups and downs?
It's a universally meaningful time for millions of people, and I would argue that this sense of connectedness is a large part of what makes the season seem sort of magical. Yet for many people, the winter months don't always live up to their heartwarming reputation.
I learned to be empathic and to think about the impact of my behavior on others because of some of my less-than-positive experiences. I learned to look into the eyes of others when I was speaking to them to see what kind of reaction I was causing.
I want you to imagine a bright white light coming from above. It's the light of gratitude. Now surround yourself in that light. Get covered from your head to your toes in that white light and let it surround your fears and your pain.
I have spent a lot of tearful hours trying to figure out what possible good could be coming of this particular pile of crud. Last week, the liturgy included the line, "We give thanks for those moments that remind us that we are not in power." Being grateful to realize we're not in control?