Reflecting is Heathly
by Donna Mann on 07/29/14
It's been too long since I've written in this blog - but that's going to change. While in the grocery story yesterday, I talked with an old friend. In response to a question, she said, "I don't want to think back to those days." I wondered if the pain was still as deep as the obvious memory.
Reflecting on significant times in one's life can be very healing. We made a major move over the past year; this being one of the reasons I had to let a lot of things go - blogging for one. We moved from a lovely old 1865, 2400 square feet restored farm house. It seemed the perfect place to have a Bed & Breakfast, Family Party Room in the Barn Shed, Labrinyth and flower beds . . . and more flower beds.
We enjoyed putting small gold fish in the garden pond during the month of June and then graduating them in the fall to the larger farm pond. The bog garden behind the barn nursed the frogs, water insects, other unnamed friends and the river overflow kept the water moving and fresh.
There were times in my waking day dreams that I thought we'd never leave that property. Each time I walked through the cedar bush, I thought the path looked stronger, beckoning me to come more often.
Perhaps, sitting by the river taught me the greatest lesson about change. If I stood in the middle of it, new fresh running water washed through my toes. If it were not that way, I would be standing in stagnant water.
We moved back 'home' after 30 years of being away. Into a much beloved bungalow that I'd admired since childhood . . . and right next door to my grandparent's last residence. From my farm memories of work, a particular satisfaction and peace of mind, to a different kind of reflection - that of Grandpa and our walks down through the tangled bush to the top of the Elora Rocks. And of Grandma baking her cookies, and looking for Grandpa and me, out over the same back field, that we cut now as lawn.
Reflection is heathly. If there is work to do, God will give you the strength to tidy it up. Reflection is not to greive, but to anticipate. It is not to bring sorrow, but to look for surprise. It is gaining the strength to let go and then use that newly found strength to continue the journey.
