I have done just about everything I can to put off writing a post today. I've taken care of the mail, finished the book I was reading, gone to check on a granddaughter who is house sitting, and checked out my usual internet sites. While I was at it, I tweeted, "Give me a few more years and I will have procrastination perfected."
Then, to top it all off I did something crazy for lunch. Since I have been trying to use up canned foods that have been given to me (that's another story), I sometimes have to get creative. Today I dumped half a can of drained garbanzo beans into the blender with two cloves of garlic and some sunflower seed oil. Once that was all pureed, I stirred in a little salsa and a little salt. But what do you do with home made hummus--at least that is what I think I made--when you have no chips or pita bread? You put it in a bowl and eat it with a spoon. Pretty tasty I must admit. Now, to get rid of this garlic breath.
OK, it's time to get down to business.
I will have to admit, again, that I have been slightly depressed the past couple weeks. I say slightly because I still kept scheduled appointments. But, I did make conscious decisions not to do a couple things--like go to a prayer meeting or attend church. I stayed at home instead because I didn't want to have to wash my hair, put on something other than comfy pajamas, or talk to anyone--maybe tomorrow I would get out. Yes, probably tomorrow. At least that is what I told myself each day.
I am now at the point that I must ask myself why I felt that way. What had caused my thinking to change from up to down? Actually, it was more than a change in thinking, it was a change in desire. I had none. There was nothing I looked forward to, nothing I wanted to do (except do nothing), and no one I wanted to talk or listen to.
That last point is delusion at its finest. I did want to talk to people, to visit face to face and share a cup of tea or coffee. I did want to listen and learn and celebrate. Facebook, Twitter, and text messages serve a purpose, but they are not the same as spending time with a real, live person. There is something special about seeing a smile cross a friends face or a fresh light shine from their eyes. There is something special about... Well, there just is!
I could call people and invite them over or meet them in town. Somehow I have to get past the idea that calling someone will interrupt their extremely important activities--like doing dishes, talking too a spouse or kids, reading a heart-stopping book, watching an exciting TV program, working in the yard. You name it; I don't want to interrupt it. As it ends up, I sit here with my cat, my laptop, and my books.
But this depression, I realize, is about more than just needing to visiting with someone. It is about losing someone I have spent many hours talking to, listening to, and learning from. That person is my oldest granddaughter. We have grown very close over the past years. The mere idea of her leaving for college causes my to tear up. I wish the tears were all tears of joy. I know she is excited about heading out on her own. I know she will do very well in school. I am so excited about what this next phase of life will bring her and what the Lord will do with and through her, but I will miss that young lady like crazy.
I will miss her smile, her hugs, her strong will, and her even stronger faith. I will miss hearing about teen angst, school work, and boys. I will miss celebrating her great buys at thrift stores, outlet malls, and big city shops. I will miss offering her an encouraging word and praying with her. I will miss... Yes, I will miss that girl.
Don't ask me why I never felt this way when my own kids left home. I never thought about it before. They each did it in his and her own way. One went into the service. One headed to school in Phoenix. One moved into an apartment with friends on the other side of town, attended the local community college, then headed to school across the state where her now-husband was. Although they each left, I never felt the sadness I feel now.
So, I now have an answer to the question you were not supposed to ask. I didn't feel this sadness because their departure from home didn't leave me alone. The chicks might have flown the coop, but my husband and I still had each other to talk to and listen to. I don't have him anymore, and I now I won't have her. I, too, am entering a new phase of life.
Will I ever learn than one cannot live where there is neither ebb nor flow. Something going out and something coming in is what makes us more whole, more aware, and more compassionate and understanding; therefore, I will walk the beach the Lord has placed me on, breath the air, feel the sand, and experience the work of his life forming tide.
Jan and Licorice Kitty who, thankfully, ebbed off the porch to eat her critter elsewhere, then flowed back empty mouthed.
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