Hello Lovely Observers,
Thank you for your patience with me as I’ve been grieving and handling family matters pertaining to the death of my father. I have not, yet, been able to write my way through. I’ve had to do a good deal of traveling and physical work—things I would have rather taken my time to do. But we don’t always get to choose. Beyond that, I’ve only had space for being a mom and wife and trying to look after myself. In some ways not much different than the past year and a half of my life. And that is OK.
Years ago, (2014 to be exact, so nearly a decade) I wrote a phrase that traveled around the internet:
What feels like the end is often the beginning.
This eventually became a chapter in my first book. At that point I was facing my first great endings in life: my parents divorcing and the death of my grandfather. I had no idea that these two significant losses were the start of a decade of loss and letting go.
I believe the Holy Spirit gave me these words before I could understand what they would mean in my life. If you read my original post, you’ll see that I was taking a step of faith to trust the possibility of this myself and asking my readers to do the same.
God in his goodness was asking me to not only reframe my endings into beginnings but to also accept that the natural order of an ending incites a beginning. Even death (which appears to be the final ending) is but the doorway to new (eternal) life.
I am at the pinpoint of an ultimate ending on the map of my life. The death of a parent. A marked point that cannot be erased or rewritten. It is a dividing line.
No longer green with loss and able to accept (even if reluctantly) endings, I’m surprised to find these words bubbling up in the recesses of my soul. Knocking from the other side of the basement door.
Knock. Knock.
Who’s there?
Ending.
Ending, who?
Ending, I am a Beginning!
In the fizzle of finality, it is always muddled. Ending. Beginning. Beginning. Ending. The line stops. But, does it?
It keeps going.
Perhaps new beginnings are harder to walk into than endings?
Many times endings are not of our choice, out of our hands. A forced acceptance.
But beginnings? They require our participation.
Beginnings extend an invitation.
They ask:
Are you willing?
Will you come along?
What would you like?
What do you see?
Do you trust Me?
Would you like a new start?
If we do not welcome beginnings on the edges of our endings, then we will be beholden to the ending. Left with a wondering that never allows the soul to rest.
Most endings are layered. And far from a singular stop.
I am not ready to share what all of the endings my father’s life on this earth entail for me. But what I can tell you is that before me are many beginnings. Some I do not want. Some I welcome. And some I am vastly unclear of.
The beginning of a new level of healing and recovery.
The beginning of some sort of new creation.
The beginning of a new way.
Beyond that, I cannot name the beginnings (the endings are much easier to identify).
My time of carrying the weight of a sick loved one, and managing their care (like a full-time job—“Head of Medical for the family” was a title he bestowed on me, he was funny and fanciful like that) has come to an end. My time of living in crisis mode has expired (my body hasn’t yet received the message, however). I cannot express the weariness I was walking in and the weight I carried. But what I can tell you is that, no matter how stressful, it was familiar. And I had a purpose. And also, a high dose of adrenaline surging through my veins.
Where do I begin? What even am I beginning? “Are you going to write another book?” people ask (like: “When are you going to have a baby?” “Do you want any more kids?”). In time, I’m certain I will. But this is not the time (at least not in a formal strategic way).
Yet, it is the time to begin . . . some . . . .thing. Some creation.
“I’ll start with a post,” I think to myself. I write 1000 words and let them sit in my drafts for a month or two and never publish. “Who would want to read this?” “What is this even about?” “What is my direction?” “What is my long-term plan?”
I don’t know. I’m at a beginning.
Maybe you are at a beginning too?
An ending, to reframe.
Death.
New Life.
Beginnings are reluctant, they are hopeful, they are frightening, they are unclear, they are wobbly, and they may start in one direction and turn out not to be the way you continue. This is OK. Necessary even. How can we know any direction, until we take a step? Until we accept the invitation?
My invitation is simply to create.
If I do not create, I’ll settle in my ending.
If I do not create, I’ll only react (more to come on this thought).
And if my creation is not an offering (does not entail some form of sharing, even if at a very later time), it is an ending of its own.
I’d like clarity in what I am to create but I don’t, yet, have it. I have to take a step, so my steps may be directed. Action brings clarity and movement creates movement. I, again, must surrender to being a bad beginner. Beginning is what matters. Beginning is my job.
Begin making decisions.
Begin typing words on the computer.
Begin writing in my journal.
Begin an inspiration board.
Begin a new hobby.
So this is me beginning, with this post to you today. I’ve been writing online since 2008. This should be old hat. But it’s not. Sometimes we have to begin again at what we already know (the gift of being a “true” beginner is that you don’t know what you don’t know.). I know too much, but I am willing to be a bad beginner as I find my footing, my voice again, my place again. Thank you for your patience with me. My hope is to show up and for you to show up too. And that in our showing up there will be connection and something that you may take away to bring beauty to your day and health and healing to your soul.
I’d love to hear from you in the comments. What are you observing? Do any of you find yourself at an ending? A beginning? What emotions does this bring about? Fear? Excitement? Curiosity? Hope?
XO. Trina
I’ve been needing to focus on the beauty in my life lately and I ordered your La La Lovely book to be delivered to me while I’m away from home. It’s such a beautiful and comforting book - definitely keeps me focused 💕 Also got your Audible version to listen to as I wind down at night. ☺️
You are most welcome, Trinia. Thank you for the response. I'm pleased that my exhortation made a difference. May you find additional sources of aid before today concludes.