"April is the cruellest month," T.S. Eliot commences his work, "The Wasteland," and throughout the duration of the last several weeks, I have oft repeated this line but with a protest and a query, "Should not January receive this portrayal, Mr. Eliot?" I have long since forsaken any attempts to conjure up feelings of gaiety with the launch of a new year. While in theory I laud the practice of resolutions and a chance for a fresh start, in practice, I tend to feel a little melancholy, a little restless, a little detached.
Upon reflection, I understand that my tendency to experience a lackluster spirit around this time is partially due to the reality that many of my loved ones encountered death in this month and that despite the years, loss continues to permeate my being as memories abound. Moreover, within the last twenty-five days, many of those close to me have endured losses of their own - a mother, a brother, a grandmother, a daughter, a sister, an unborn child - and I mourn with them. And then of course, there is Haiti and her people. With so much suffering and tragedy, the temptation to acquiesce to feelings of despondency and sink into lethargy is real. Yet, we must stand vigilant and wage war against these venomous seeds lest they take root and destroy our very selves. After all, despite the death, there is always the resurrection.
Last Saturday evening, as my husband grocery shopped, my eldest son created new Lego ships in the living room, my youngest son slept, and I cleaned the basement, Natalie Merchant's "Life is Sweet," popped up on Pandora. Merchant's vocals never fail to elicit some form of emotion within me, and as I stopped wiping the layers of dust off our furniture and listened to the words of this song, I scooped my middle son, who was quietly sitting on the couch gobbling down a bowl full of goldfish crackers, into my arms and just sat with him, confessing all for which I have to be grateful.
"April is the cruellest month," T.S. Eliot commences his work, "The Wasteland," and throughout the duration of the last several weeks, I have oft repeated this line but with a protest and a query, "Should not January receive this portrayal, Mr. Eliot?" I have long since forsaken any attempts to conjure up feelings of gaiety with the launch of a new year. While in theory I laud the practice of resolutions and a chance for a fresh start, in practice, I tend to feel a little melancholy, a little restless, a little detached.
Upon reflection, I understand that my tendency to experience a lackluster spirit around this time is partially due to the reality that many of my loved ones encountered death in this month and that despite the years, loss continues to permeate my being as memories abound. Moreover, within the last twenty-five days, many of those close to me have endured losses of their own - a mother, a brother, a grandmother, a daughter, a sister, an unborn child - and I mourn with them. And then of course, there is Haiti and her people. With so much suffering and tragedy, the temptation to acquiesce to feelings of despondency and sink into lethargy is real. Yet, we must stand vigilant and wage war against these venomous seeds lest they take root and destroy our very selves. After all, despite the death, there is always the resurrection.
Last Saturday evening, as my husband grocery shopped, my eldest son created new Lego ships in the living room, my youngest son slept, and I cleaned the basement, Natalie Merchant's "Life is Sweet," popped up on Pandora. Merchant's vocals never fail to elicit some form of emotion within me, and as I stopped wiping the layers of dust off our furniture and listened to the words of this song, I scooped my middle son, who was quietly sitting on the couch gobbling down a bowl full of goldfish crackers, into my arms and just sat with him, confessing all for which I have to be grateful.
3 comments:
Beth - great post. I feel quite the same way in January & February although not for the exact same reasons.
And I think at the top of the list of things for which to be grateful is a husband who grocery shops! I have one who enjoys grocery shopping, and it's fantastic. Most of my girlfriends are quite jealous.
Hugs,
~Michelle
What a lovely final image you've left us with. It does seem that over and over again, in big ways and in small, we must endure the pain in order to fully understand and appreciate the joy. Looking forward to seeing you next week!!
Whenever I am down I like to read the book of Ecclesiastes. If always helps my perspective on the world around me.
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