Just the Good Stuff
We bought Chandler a blue DRIFT backpack for Christmas a few years ago to use on his treks up Saddleback Mountain. Back then it was just a backpack. Now it’s much more. It’s a piece of Chandler I get to carry with me when I go hiking. It’s a symbol – of zeal for life, of being in the moment, of stamina, of love for nature, of friendship, of adventure.
This little backpack is designed for a day hike, not a multi-day trip. You have to be choosy about what goes in there. Everything simply won’t fit.
In grief, you become keenly aware that not everything fits. You have to make room for the physical and emotional work of missing, remembering, grasping, reconfiguring, reimagining, packing and unpacking, weeping, sighing. Breathing.
Last January, pretty much all that would fit were the basics -- getting up, brushing my teeth, getting dressed, eating. Feeling the weight of losing Chandler.
There are still moments when my growing capacity seems to shrink back up in an instant. Like yesterday. The first of the month. I was driving by Board & Brew at about the same time Chandler’s accident happened and saw two police cars on the corner, apparently cleaning up the aftermath of a car accident. I was right back there – December 15, 2018. I said a prayer for all involved and began mentally reciting my mantra, “Here and now. Here and now.”
Entering year two, most times, I feel like I can take on more – physically and emotionally. But even as my capacity expands, I’m learning that some things make their way into my backpack that do not serve me well.
Bitterness. Unforgiveness. Jealousy. Self-criticism. Judgment. If I carry these around, they will crowd out valuable space that I need for the good stuff. For the life-giving stuff.
Busy-ness. That’s a big one. It perpetually competes for space normally reserved for the single thing that keeps me most sane and centered – stillness. My times of quiet meditation are like the water reservoir in Chandler’s….in my….little backpack. It goes in first. Everything else gets tucked in around it. I don’t have everything. But I have what I need.
God, I know I cannot carry everything. Give me wisdom, courage and grace to put just the good stuff in my backpack and leave out the rest. Amen.
