Suspended Between Hello and Goodbye
(thoughts on grief and gratitude)
It’s time to say goodbye.
The house was full for the last time. We had a party. My children played in the garden with cousins. My brothers and sisters were laughing. I cried as soon as we started up the drive. The unabashed beauty of life, the woven wall of flowering quince that my daddy planted in the ground with his own two living hands so many years ago. The memory of his life still tenderly moving through the earth with all the green stalks breaking through the ground.
I lived in this house from the day I was born until the day I was married. It’s not the house that I will miss. But the life, the life, the life.
My parents are gone. The concentrated memory of their beautiful, completed lives lingers in this house. Losing this place feels like losing them all over again.
I find myself surprised, once again, at the strangeness of grief. How I can’t measure it or compare one grief to another. Each sorrow must be taken as it comes. It must move through my body, heart, mind, and soul, and I must find a way to give it back to God. To allow him to drop the seed of sorrow into the soil of my innermost being so that it can die there, and new life can spring up from within it.
I want to learn to say goodbye. Gracefully, with a blessed assurance of eternal life and peace that passes understanding. Oh God, I never want to cling to the past. To sit in sorrow for too long for something that was, when there is so much beauty that is and is before me.
I must remember that every moment is suspended between hello and goodbye.
Goodbye to the beautiful places that once held me, hello to the open door of home. Goodbye to the people who I have loved and lost, hello to the people who surround me with living love. Goodbye to the garden wall of flowering quince, hello to the one young bush Daddy planted in my front yard.
Goodbye to old dreams and visions for what my life could be. Hello to the vision that reshapes itself before me day by day, as I live a beautiful life that I never could have planned or imagined for myself.
Goodbye to young hope that didn’t understand how hard life could be. Hello to the the tested and proven faithfulness of God, the tasting and seeing that He is good.
Goodbye to the body that was young and as perfect as it was ever going to be. Hello to the body that has carried and nurtured children, that has been moved upon by the beautiful force of life.
Goodbye to children who were once young, to their tiny voices and little hands that were chubby, clasping my own. Hello to late-night conversations and the ripening friendship between mother and child.
Goodbye to seasons in marriage, in motherhood, in friendships and family. Hello to learning to love in a new way, to living by the power of the Holy Spirit, to seeking and finding God faithful, loving, full of new mercies every morning.
It’s time to say hello.
Dear friends,
May you find many things to say hello to in this beautiful day.
Sending love,
Mackenzie
From the Family:
My daughter,
(p.s. I find that living in a family of creative people is a lot like the best parts of art school. When our kids are fired up and inspired, there is a really cool trickle down effect. Our work is heavily influenced by what the others are doing/thinking/talking about. It is a really cool part of being a family, and one of the reasons I feel extremely blessed to have nine children. So much inspiration all around. I am very inspired by Rosie’s music. I think you will be, too!)
From the Podcast:
I find that one of the greatest lessons that motherhood is teaching me is how to hold onto the things that I desperately love while also learning, little by little, to let these things go. In this episode, I share what this looked like for me in a season of eight children, ages 2-15, with a baby on the way. As well as thoughts on overcoming fear, letting go of regrets, and living in the present moment with a heart of gratitude. I’d love it if you’d pull up a chair so we can talk it over. (Originally posted on August 27, 2023)
A Video of Last Week’s Post:
Thanks to all who liked, shared, and commented on last week’s post about 2000 people screaming on my lawn. Here is a read-aloud that I did of the first half of the post.
Also, if you are still reading, thank you! If you found this post meaningful and think others would, too, would you click the heart, send it to a friend, link or restack it? This tells Substack it is worth sharing more widely. Thank you for your support.