October (spooky season, witches)

My October last year was...wild. I kind of wish I could just write about that instead, but...we're sticking to the program here. 

Anyway, last October was like life turned to full brightness. The season of fall was in full bloom, everything looked like a perpetual postcard. My emotional and spiritual life felt like it was bubbling over constantly in a very attention demanding way. It was vibrant and revealing and exciting and it changed me in ways that I still can't fully describe. 

This October is quieter, steadier. My guess is it is some of the fruit from last year. I'm turning 21, and because I am sentimental, that has everything to do with my emotional and spiritual state. 

I've always struggled with things changing. Death, losing friends, getting older, etc. I felt like one by one things would be taken from me until I was old and had no connections, no ties to anyone. Because of that, I've kind of expected all of my relationships to be taken from me in one way or another. When I was little I wrote eulogies for my siblings to prepare me emotionally for what I assumed was imminent. I second-guessed friendships, just waiting for them to change how they felt about me and leave. 

BUT: funny enough, my grandpa's death is what helped me stop being so afraid of change. He died at the beginning of 2020, so almost 3 years ago. That whole time I was very familiar and open to my grief. If I felt like crying or something reminded me of him, I would purposely lean into it, I would let it hurt, because I loved him a lot and it mattered and I didn't want to forget how much I loved him. But there was still a tiny part of me that was like "what if he had't died, i wish he was still here, it's not fair". All of those feelings and thoughts are valid, but it was stopping me from fully accepting it, fully trusting God. I was holding onto my grief because that, too, was a way to resist change, to still hold onto him. 

Then one day, not that long ago, I was picking raspberries, standing in the sun, already in an Ecclesiastes mood. I heard neighbor kids laughing, and in a moment of pure cinematic drama and cheesy philosophy, I felt like I could see the circle of life and I just had this brilliant moment of clarity where I realized, "Life goes on." Like, things just keep happening one after another, birth and death and pain and joy and it's all happening at once for everyone. Why am I trying so hard to hold onto to things tightly when it's all random and we're all going to die anyway? I'm going to keep getting older, those I love will die, and I will remember them, but I will also get new people I love. 

Turning 21 is another change that I would have fought. 

My favorite great-aunt shared with us that she has been diagnosed with abdominal cancer. With that brand of cancer, you don't feel symptoms until the cancer has spread and it is most likely terminal. She said in her email that she is making peace with the reality of the situation. She is barely in her 60s, young by old standards, and she just welcomed a new grandbaby. 

In light of that, how on earth could I possibly be sad about turning 21? Of course it's all a part of the "life goes on", but it helps me turn inwards less, it helps me to be less self-focused, which is a mercy. 

21 feels remarkably uneventful, which I am okay with. I have a lot of birthdays ahead of me and I can't be dramatic about every single one. 

As I get older, a lesson that is impressed upon me in every season is "let go, you have control, only He does". Birthdays and time passing is just another facet of that.