A psalm of thanksgiving. Let all the earth sing in jubilation to the Lord. Serve the Lord with joy; come before Him with exultation. Know that the Lord is God; He has made us and we are His, His people and the sheep of His pasture. Enter His gates with gratitude, His courtyards with praise; give thanks to Him, bless His Name. For the Lord is good; His kindness is everlasting, and His faithfulness is for all generations.
I’m getting ready to go to an inpatient treatment center. It is voluntary, for me and all of the residents. Twenty-eight souls in this world who have chosen to hand in their smartphones for a month (for me it’s 14 days) and work on themselves. To heal and grow.
We come into this word within a tiny human body that grows physically, seeking love and goodness. Our eyes begin to open, our hands and fingers uncurl. We crawl, walk, run and maybe even dance.
But often our families of origin in this lifetime don’t truly know how to give love and goodness.
Because maybe the humans in their lives didn’t know how. Nor those before them.
This has been passed down like a relay for generations, handed off, perhaps, without even a realization that something else was available.
For those souls who understand the difference and want light and love, they will seek it at all costs.
And for me, the cost is, among other things, leaving behind my children. And because of the fear of COVID, the facility won’t even allow visitors.
I just said goodbye to one as he left for high school. He hugged me, his long, lanky body towering over mine.
And for a moment my mind sought to flee. The beautiful, sweet love mixed with sadness and uncertainly felt uncomfortable.
But I stayed there, in mind and body. Though I didn’t let him see or here me cry.
But as the door closed behind him, warm tears poured, are pouring, down my cheeks.
Pain comes through us in many forms. But, as I’m learning from my fellow travelers, there are ways to process it, to turn pain into purpose and passion.
Let it Go.
It is 9 a.m. I will finish packing the last of my books and clothes and make the hour drive north with my husband.
Please G-d grant me the serenity to accept those I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know that one is me.
I pray that this sacrifice will help in healing, for myself, my children and G-d willing those souls yet to come.
For the Lord is good; His kindness is everlasting, and His faithfulness is for all generations.