Nativity Catholic Church
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Having to Let Go: The Bus is Here! I made a slower than normal drive down the street on my way to work today. I did this for two reasons—actually one reason, two pieces. Today is the first day of school. As the children and young people start making their way to the bus stops on the first few days of school, and the bright yellow “think tanks” begin clogging the local arteries, all of us need to slow down and pay more attention. Today is the first day of school, so I am driving more slowly this morning, not only to safeguard the kids, but more importantly, to drink in the thrill of this day. As I inch down the street, I spy several clusters of elementary school children along the way. I can’t quite figure out, given the weight and exercise problems that have infiltrated the lives of our youth, why the bus stops are so plentiful within such a short distance. I chuckle to see the same mom, whom I’ve watched for the past two years, again drive her little one exactly three houses down from theirs to the bus stop! I marvel at the variety of emotion painted on the faces of the kids—some clearly petrified; some as nonchalant as a ticket taker at the movies; some as jumpy as a Cirque du Soleil acrobat; some walking more slowly than grandpa on his walker, hoping the bus will come and go so they can return home to squeeze out a little more summertime leisure. But really it’s the faces of the parents who accompany their kids, and watching their weak attempts to remain stoic while clearly on the verge of a breakdown, that warm my heart. Grace made it possible that I was stopped for several minutes by the bus cross-arm, and I was able to relish the scene of one, newly minted first-grader mounting the bus steps. Dad had the video camera going (dads always seem to occupy themselves with tasks and gadgets during emotional moments. That way they can “appear” strong and in control); mom was decked out in sunglasses, partly because the morning blaze was already beating down from the sky, but mostly, I think, to hide her tears, not wanting to traumatize her little girl more than she already was on the first day of school. As the doors closed, and dad continued his filming, mom waved goodbye, and brushed the tears from her check, just beneath the cover of those brilliant blue Oakleys. With the smoked windows of the bus, I’m sure the little girl never saw those tears (nor did mom see hers). As the proud parents joined hands and began the slow trek home, I couldn’t help but think today is just one of many more occasions to come when they will be called upon to LET GO. Some will be worthy of preserving on film, while others will be too painful to even want to recall. Some will be planned and necessary, while others will take them by frightening surprise. Some occasions of letting go will feel good, and their confidence in a job well done will swell, while others will leave them wringing their hands and asking the unanswerable question, “how did we get to this?” While I have never walked a child to their first day of school and had to bid them a tearful goodbye, I was moved by this morning’s scene because we all are called upon to LET GO—and I’ve done plenty of it in my own lifetime. This morning’s picture will remain with me, I think, as a metaphor for what letting go means, asks, requires of each of us—whether or not we are willing participants. When we find ourselves asked to let go of someone or something dear to us, it helps to have someone along for the walk. Our companion may not be able to change our situation, they may not be able to substitute for what or who we had to release, they may not fully understand our grief over this loss—but having someone to keep pace with us, to see us along the way is a gift—and we can be that same gift to someone else who is struggling with letting go. When we find ourselves asked to let go of someone or something that holds deep meaning in our lives, it helps to be reminded that the followers of Jesus, and the Lord himself, were no strangers to this challenging sorrow. John’s gospel provides wonderful vignettes contained in Jesus’ “farewell discourses” that help us to see the emotion-laden heart of the Lord as he began to break away from his beloved disciples. And in these vignettes, perhaps we can find strength and comfort for our own letting go. We also witness the struggle of the disciples, as they try to cope, in wide-eyed disbelief, with their Master’s departure. They were to shed more than a few tears between the cross and resurrection, and the pain of his departure testified to the depth of love they possessed for Jesus. And isn’t that the kick in the stomach for us all—the deeper the love, the more painful the separation; the more profound the connection, the harder to let go. Sometimes, after having limped away from too many painful partings at the “bus stops” of our lives, we may choose to limit our connections with people or commitments; we may choose to spare ourselves the pain of parting by never entering a deep relationship in the first place. Letting go is painful, and so we find our defenses—and sometimes, we never again emerge from those protective shells. If all of our life’s separating were as touching as saying goodbye on that first day of school, we wouldn’t mind the tears, and we’d be thrilled to pull out the video in the years to come. But most of our letting go takes us far beyond sentimental bus stops and airport farewells. Most of our letting go leaves scars on the heart, scars so painful that we perhaps wish we didn’t have a heart that could so easily be bruised and broken. In the original text of Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Tin Woodman returns to the Wizard, anxiously seeking his heart. But the Wizard warns him: “I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart.” To which, the Tin Woodman replies: “That must be a matter of opinion; for my part, I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur, if you will give me the heart.” Indeed, having a heart means that we will bear the pain of unhappiness, and much more. Our occasions for letting go will test the capacity of our hearts to love, to forgive, to honor, and to fill with compassion. Sooner or later, the bus will be here again…and we’ll be saying goodbye. But the deep and meaningful bonds that we forge with people and the most important commitments we make need not unravel completely with every goodbye. Sometimes letting go only allows for a richer and more grace-filled coming back!
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