Inside: Letting go of what was to make space for what will be is one of the ways I practice trusting that there is yet more goodness and beauty to come.
We are afraid to let go for different reasons.
For one daughter of mine, her eclectic collection of books helps inform her identity. My husband, on the other hand, grew up in poverty and fear of lack can compel him to gather and save up. I find myself afraid to let go because I struggle to trust that there is yet more goodness and beauty to come my way.
But I know I must let go of what was to make space for what will be.
Organization and order come naturally to me. I maintain a minimalist wardrobe, resist the pull of busy, and release habits or belongings that no longer merit space in my life. My challenge with letting go is emotional, not physical.
As I give away the favorite storybooks and games and buckets of Legos that marked my years as mama of little people, what I’m really letting go of is a beautiful season of life where I knew my role, was good at it, and felt needed. That was my dream—to build a nest and raise family. As my kids grow up and leave home, I’m shocked at the unexpected grief mixed with hope. Sometimes I want just a few days more to hug their little bodies tight. Fear tells me it will never again be as sweet as this.
Though I ache, I let go of what was to make space for what will be.
I am learning to coexist with discomfort and take action anyway so I can do the work to which I am called in this new season. But after years of numbing and running and wrestling with anxiety that incapacitates, this is hard work, emotional work, and sometimes I want to quit because even at 46 growing up is hard to do. Fear whispers I will fail anyway so it’s better not to try.
I challenge fear with truth and let go of who I was to make space for who I choose to be.
Each day I practice loving with less judgment, meeting people where they’re at. I notice my tendency toward impatience and frustration, and remind myself to take a breath and trust the journey. Instead of stepping into each day with a rigid agenda, I show up with curiosity. Fear warns that if I don’t control tightly, I will miss out or fall behind.
But I’ve opted out of the race, so I loosen my grip on what I think should be to make space for joyful possibility.