Recently some stuff of ours got destroyed.
I'm discovering the innards of grief..
We were planning on giving the stuff away,
so it's not the stuff I mourn, though it was valuable.
It's what I'm discovering I need to let go of.
Attachment to what could have been— let it go.
Blame of those who destroyed it— let it go.
Shock at discovering a dark side of someone I trusted — let it go.
Anger at the powerlessness of badly wanting something back
I can't get back.
Promising myself to stop rehearsing outrage... but I do.
Dashed hopes...work wasted... feeling violated...let it all go.
How many ways desire clings,
how many little pieces there are to letting go.
As I wrestle with this small angel
I'm mindful of those who have lost more than things:
houses crushed in storms, loved ones dead, war's terror,
villages destroyed, horrors fled, never to return,
black bodies threatened, lives trafficked, children enslaved,
queer souls on the front porch of hell.
It's not that I should stop caring about our stuff,
but let it be a door to care for greater things.
So I pray: God, enlarge my grief.
Don't remove my petty objection;
embed it in your yearning for justice.
Let me mourn more greatly. Change my desires.
Deepen my yearning into empathy and generosity and hope
and the willingness to lose that is love.
―June 17, 2019