In the musical, "Phantom of the Opera", the main character Christine (who also shares my name) sings to her father's grave, wishing he could be there with her again. She has to come to terms with happy moments that won't be repeated, and her last line in the song is "Help me say goodbye." I've realized, over the last few weeks, I too need help saying goodbye. This school year has held some painful losses for me.
My friend Kimba is no longer who she was - lost in some ways to me for good.
I almost lost a friend by his own hand - the friendship we had now lost to become something different.
I lost my grandmother - my last grandparent - and any chance at reconciliation that went with her.
I lost my mom's old car, albeit involuntarily.
I lost the pictures from years of my life.
I lost the ability to focus in classes this spring.
And, for a few moments, I thought I lost my mind.
A friend wrote in a song, "Don't believe the fallacies of condemnation cause even green leaves change the autumn trees." Wasn't that my whole existence around what I saw as loss? All I could feel was guilt, condemnation, anxiety, and all I could see was haze, as though there was a perpetual cloud in my eyes and mind. Well, there was a cloud, and it was grief. In light of losing, I didn't stop to grieve. I didn't stop to say goodbye, and besides... who would I ask to say goodbye?
At the end of May, as I drove through Shreveport, LA, a place I remembered with fondness, my rose colored glasses lost their tint. I realized, for all my many nice memories of this place, many of my fears and addictions began there. I cried over the next hour as so many thoughts cam back. I remembered this is was the birthplace of fear for me: fear of failure, fear of being different, fear of rejection. It was the origin of my perfectionism and my depression. It was the introduction of sexual sin into my life, and it was the home of my insecurity. Reality is I lived all these years letting this one place affect my life and my decisions. I hadn't let it go.
Over the last couple weeks, I've been looking at pictures from high school, and the rosy tint of youth ministry is fading. The beginning of my feeling alone and not being good/pretty/skinny/popular enough was there, heightening the fears that began in Louisiana. I realized, as I saw all the smiles and remembered the good times, I still need to say goodbye. I hadn't truly let it go.
We wish the rose coloring was somehow here again, just as Christine sings to her long lost father. We want to remember those moments as beautiful or grand, but when we experience loss, we begin to see life as it really is, and we have to grieve the thing it used to be.
No, I'm not depressed, and no, I'm not saying all those moments were the worst ever. I'm saying I can see 2 things more clearly now:
1. God's hand is on every moment of my life, revealing his beauty and my depravity, and
2. All these events shape who I am now - a person that is grateful to be where I am and aware of my dependence on the Lord.
"Help me say goodbye," I asked the Lord as I drove through Louisiana on a Friday morning. I asked him for forgiveness and received it. I asked him to heal my soul and help me to no longer accept lies as truth. And now...?
I'm seeing things in a new way - literally, I got new glasses, and life looks clearer, sharper, and less scratchy. It looks this way spiritually as well. I can see the beauty and the pain of life and recognize the need for both. I am more aware of my need for the Lord, and the autumn leaves are changing to green. As I continue to grieve loss and let go, I see God bringing new life in its place.
I am moving into a new time. I believe this new season is the result of losing, grieving, and letting go. I'm physically moving into a new apartment with a new housemate. I am beginning a new season of ministry through music. I have a new chance to explore and endorse the arts community at DTS. Youth ministry will not be a strong pursuit right now, and I'm putting teaching to the side. I'm also letting go of a lot of expectations I have for myself as well as those placed on me by others. I'm letting go of fears that had dictated my life and addictions that are distracting me from truth. Not all overnight, but definitely and definitively.
Had I not moved to Dallas, despite my fear and cautiousness, I might still be living bound and enslaved to those lies. I'm grateful that God brought me here, knowing that freedom was in store for me. I'm thankful that God's hand is on my joy and loss, he is my comfort in my grief, he rejoices with me in my healing, and he is always there to help me say goodbye but never will be the one to whom I say it.
