What feelings come up when you read the following two words:
Are your feelings positive or negative?
Are these words to be avoided at all costs or embraced?
Do these words hinder your freedom or enhance it?
In a later post I will deal with obedience, one of the most freeing words in the entire English language.
Today I will deal with detachment because I finally found out what it means.
What do I have to give up?
Will I have to watch less TV, skip that beer or ice cream, put aside dreams of a tropical winter get-away in order to instead travel to snowbound Buffalo to visit elderly parents?
Will I have to give up something, or someone I dearly love?
What will I have to sacrifice?
Detachment in part means sacrifice and both words have a negative connotation in this age of you-can-have-it-all.
And there’s more to sacrifice than giving up time, money and material items. There are feelings inside of us that need to be sacrificed too.
That sacrifice is known as self-control.
Thud. Another word that stirs up a negative connotations.
In this age of exposing ourselves on Facebook and Twitter, self-control has fallen by the wayside.
When we feel bad, we show it. Why hide it? We not only show it, we indulge in it. We feel entitled to wallow in it. Hell, we feel like crap so why not just let it take over?
At some point you long to escape. Escape, as you know, comes about in many unhealthy, even deadly forms. Just ask Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson and Anna Nicole Smith.
Oh that’s right. We can’t.
What does all this have to do with detachment? Here’s how.
And I only just learned this in the last few days.
On Saturday we said goodbye to our 26 year-old son. He is moving from his place near our home in central MA to Brooklyn, NY to explore new options in his life. It’s only four hours away but it might as well be on the other side of this planet to this mother’s heart.
I urged him to go.
Heck, I was the main cheerleader. And I was bound and determined not to lose it in front of him.
So just before the big goodbye, I stole away to the bathroom in his house and begged God to help me put a lid on my emotions.
The response was an impulse to pray the Hail Mary.
I then rifled through my pocketbook and found my rosary ring. I put it in my pocket and fingered it, continuing to pray.
And when it came time to say goodbye, I only cried a little.
We exchanged warm hugs and a few tears flowed but I held it together.
I realized at that moment that asking God to intervene, He stepped in between my son and myself, providing that little bit of detachment that allowed me to keep a lid on my emotions.
Later on in the privacy of my kitchen, I had my cry.
Detachment saved me from embarrassment, not only for myself, but for my son and everyone else that was there when we exchanged goodbyes.
And now I am working on building on that detachment.
The pain of saying goodbye is not unlike grief and it can become a black hole, sucking you in and smothering the life out of you.
The natural inclination is to go towards that black hole.
The smart thing to do is to step back.
I work up this morning filled with pain over the goodbye. But I washed up, went to Sunday mass, did the food shopping and spent the day with my husband.
I clung to God and made a deliberate effort to tell that black hole I wasn’t going to be sucked in.
It wasn’t easy.
A lot of the time I just wanted to lay down on my bed and go to sleep.
The lesson of yesterday’s goodbye and the taste of freedom from that small bit of detachment gave me the impetus to keep pursuing it.
I sacrificed the urge to give in to the pain.
Using self-control, I deliberately turned away from pain of the past and fixed my gaze upon the future.
Little things like a medium Dunkin’ Donuts mocha ice coffee helped in the cause.
God teaches us detachment for a reason.
He wants to set us free. I feel like I have discovered a most precious secret.
And so I bid my son a bittersweet farewell, knowing it’s for the best and wishing him many blessings in his journey.
I have already found mine.
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Susan Bailey, Author, Speaker, Musician on Facebook and Twitter
Read my other blog, Louisa May Alcott is My Passion