Thursday, July 25, 2013

My Parent's Barn

I shuffle into the darkness, the familiar dusty smells, with blazing sunlight, clear blue skies and the smell of fresh cut grass lingering behind me. Slowly I work my way over to the pile. All our life's possessions folded neatly into labeled boxes and bins. I peel open some of the closest and smile wistfully at the contents. A white blanket that once graced our bed, a carefully wrapped bowl, some random checkered pot holders. Items I felt must be kept. I glance to the left and stare at the rug that once lay on our beautifully refinished living room floor, now left rolled in a heap, collecting dust and God knows what else.

A life put on hold.

And then, amongst the piles I see remnants of dreams I fiercely held, never letting go. A booster seat. Padding from a high chair. A dismantled crib. I remember the hoarse whispers... "I'm sorry. I am willing to let go of many things. But this, these things, I will not let go. No matter how impractical or improbable. I will not let go." And so, they were stored.

And I smile.

No, no. This life has not been put on hold. This life is being lived.

Can I live and live fully, each moment, whether it be here or there? Can I awaken myself to all the beauty that abounds, to the richness and wonder, and yes, to the heartache too, not wishing away a second, a moment of time? Be it difficult and mind-bending, can I fully call this place home while still embracing and loving the other that is home too? Can I give grace to the relationships that struggle with the distance and love all those who may not always know how best to love and understand me?

This is my journey. For this life is not on hold. Though pieces of me may lie here, in my parent's barn, a life once lived, that past is weaving and weaving itself beautifully into my present and even my future. I hold on and also let go, waiting to see what may be, and thankfully bowing my head for each remembered blessing.

2 comments:

Suzanne Veenstra said...

Kath, that was a beautiful reflection and poem, really. You live a life unlike so many, and yet, when you put it into words, somehow, it touches us all and we can come near. Thank you.

Rose said...

Beautiful. Holding on, letting go, holding on, letting go...It never ends does it?