“We’re growing older, realizing we cannot stop the hands of time.”
My friend, Elaine, is an exquisite writer. Her thoughtful words stir me and provoke me and poke me. I wish I could write like her.
She recently wrote a piece called “Time.” The following is from her article.
“If we cannot heartily grieve, then we cannot healthily move forward. We must acknowledge the pain that we feel regarding the passage of time; in doing so, we’re better prepared for the steps that lie ahead. Carrying grief or carrying regret into our tomorrows will limit forward progression. This doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t feel it; it simply means that we should live it as it arrives—recognize it, speak it, and give it the respect its due. This is how we gain better perspective. This is how we live truthfully before God and before his created. This is how we work it out and release some of the heaviness attached to time’s seemingly, increasing cadence.”
The passage of time strikes a melancholy in me. Christmas season strikes the passage of time. I love everything about Christmas, I look forward to Christmas and it is gone before I know it; this Christmas slipped through my fingers and joined the memory of Christmas past.
Christmas strikes melancholy because of being a child once and reveling in the mystery and magic of Christmas. Listening to the ancient story about this baby named Jesus and at the same time, waiting anxiously for Santa to come through the door (we didn’t have a chimney so he had to come through the door!). Now they are but memories.
Christmas strikes a melancholy that my kids have grown and those precious moments of absolute glee for Christmas morning is past. Sleepy little heads padding down the stairs and gathering around the Christmas tree waiting for us to say “go ahead, open your stockings!” Children bless us with the greatest memories, both good and bad.
Christmas strikes a melancholy because it reminds me I had cancer and December was the month of incredible grieving for the loss of life I once knew. But December is also the month my healing began.
I am grateful for the past Christmases and Decembers, I reservedly look forward to the New Year. I am comfortably in between right now. My daughter is to marry, the start of an inexplicable journey, a journey that no mother can prepare her daughter for. And our parents are well but aging and I wonder, “what will this year bring?” I cling to this “in betweeness”, I don’t want it interrupted or disturbed.
“We must acknowledge the pain that we feel regarding the passage of time; in doing so, we’re better prepared for the steps that lie ahead.”
I remember my yesteryears, both good and bad; I acknowledge them gladly and sorrowfully.
Life is delicate and in need of respect. What will 2013 bring?
(To read the complete article from the blog, “Peace for the Journey” please click here.)
The Voice: a Christian cancer blog 