The Art Of Letting Go
This life of mine has been a menagerie of learning to let go. Growing up, my dad was always searching for happiness everywhere but inside himself. We moved every few years, and we never had roots. I changed towns, schools, and friends so often that the memories blurred together. Today, I wonder how that must have felt for my mom. Time after time, packing up your world, and your children, and saying goodbye to friends. She lovingly packed and unpacked the family china, her books, and our family memories. My dad cussed those heavy boxes every time. I now understand her need to protect the things she could hang on to. When she passed from this world, I knew I had to have the family chinaware. I cherish the memories created with those delicate pieces of family history and I will pass the memories and the lessons on to a future generation.
If there is a blessing from my childhood experience (and there is), it is learning to hold on to things loosely. There are a whole lot of struggles that came before learning to be grateful and finding the blessings. Struggles such as detachment, loneliness, longing for a home, and learning to find happiness from within. Now, I am blessed to have a sense of adventure, I embrace change, and I love meeting new people and experiencing new cultures. Those have all been born of the struggle of learning to let go.
Loss is never easy. It doesn’t matter if it’s the loss of a dream, a relationship, a friendship, the death of someone you love, or a broken piece of family chinaware. It cuts deep, every single time. I can’t say it gets easier, but in looking back, I can see the progress from cooperating with the process.
As I write this, I’m struggling with the Art of Letting Go, again.
Yesterday, as I walked and prayed, I literally marched up and down the same mountain. After I got down the first time, I heard God say, “Do it again.” So, I did. After several trips up and down, I felt the significance in my spirit. But today, I understand the foreshadowing – I recognize the mountain and I can’t skip the process. I must do the hard work it takes to release my fingers from around that which I hold onto so tightly.
So today, I release my tightly bound hands and trust the process in the Art of Living.
As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55:9
Veloris is a mother and grandmother. Her and her husband, Rich, own and operated Shady Acre Inn & Suites just down the road from Silver Dollar City near Branson, MO. She is the writer for our Editorial column, The Art of Living. You can read all her posts here.