It is always a pleasure to be able to view the sights, feel the cooler temperatures, and smell the scents of approaching fall. Acknowledging the change in the season brings back to my memory of a loved time of year in our home; the harvest season. Coming from a farm family, I remember the back lights still on when already in bed, knowing that Daddy would be pulling in with loads of freshly picked corn or peanuts. I can still remember the sounds of the grain bins and augers twirling to carry the dumped truckloads of either corn, peanuts, or soybeans to be stored until time to use for farm animals or to be sold at the local farm supply station.Just this week I was stirred as I viewed a field cleaned of the rows of corn that had once been standing. The golden tan stalks cut down and left for hunters to track across in pursuit of that buck they missed last year. You know, the one with all the racks! The once filled area in which was green and blowing in the hot breeze of summer now appears bleak with a waiting season before new planting time. It’s like that often through the grief process. Once you get used to the season, it changes bringing with it different adjustments, feelings, and goals. Without these seasons, would we grow? Would we appreciate what once was?
Farmers find success through numbers of bushels, prices at sale, and the reality that another planting is just around the corner: a chance for a better crop. But grief is somewhat different. With the changes of routine, acknowledgement of loss, and mixed feelings and emotions, often, success is hard to see; much like the farmer who kept his land and family, but will pay back the loans for many years to come. While acknowledging the hardship of seeing someone slip from you, it’s hard to see promise of “a new crop” or a renewed sense of oneself. What exactly does a new season bring for the person in grief?
It brings the choice of whether to move forward, stay where you are, or regress. It brings the choice of whether to be positive or negative. It brings the choice of sharing, carrying alone, or hiding from yourself and others. It brings a choice of being rather than having of living on with a renewed meaning of what it is to love and be loved.
If I were to farm again, I’d have different things, like large blocks of land with those purple blooming sage plants that someone makes perfume from. I’d have rows upon rows of broccoli to cut, box, and load into the backs of eighteen-wheelers. I’d have those cute little cucumbers that make the best pickles and I’d take photos of the pickers throwing them into the hoppers and photos of them being transferred to trucks for delivery. I’d have acres of red hot peppers and wonder if they are used for crushed or ground seasoning and whether any of them graded high enough to be jarred in vinegar for all those collards I ship to New York so they too, can have some “ southern style delicacies”.
Grief stages? I’d be less selfish and show honor through living. I’d have better understanding of why my pain is so real. I’d choose to love even more than before because I really know that this void is worth experiencing. I’d choose to smile more because of the investment made and the interest gained to invest in others. I’d wear the worn out robe every day and wash it only if necessary and I’d learn to tell better stories and learn to capture more meaning from what was being said. I’d sit quietly listening to my heart rather than my fears.
I may never live on a farm again, but I’m sure I will continue to grieve. People may not recognize it as grief, but I will feel the loss, the void, and acknowledge the changes throughout time. I may not ever plant another crop in the ground, but I choose to plant daily acts of kindness shown to me by those gone on. I’ll remember that by living with my grief I will become whole and better because I have been loved, and have loved. I will move past “me” and on to “us”. I will, because I have, and I am. Grief doesn’t have to immobilize us from living. Yes, it changes us, for better or for worse? The choices are yours.
During the grief process you may become depressed. That is often a place that is hard to work through alone yet it’s hard to ask for help. This month we will have guest speaker, Rev. Robert Richardson, share with us knowledge about depression and ways we can handle those times when they come. This session will be very informative and will be helpful with your own process as well as with others. Feel free to bring friends or family and learn more about depression. You will be surprised at the things you will learn. I’ll see you there. “Fall” into a season ready to face a subject numerous people struggle with.
Hope to see you on Tuesday, October 6th at 10am at the Carpenter’s Shop Church resource room.
Looking forward to hearing about your season!
