Finding the gift in ‘goodbye’

by | Jul 20, 2014 | Getting Real: The Blog

Morning Glory Farm

For those of you who know me, you know that I’ve been processing a difficult ‘goodbye’ during this last season of my life. As a true introvert (recharge alone), I’ve allowed myself the space to go within, to be with this transition, and to stay present with all that’s come up.

Thankfully, this hasn’t been the loss of a loved one… and I’m so grateful for the presence of those I love, in my life.

It has been, rather, the loss of a dream. In the form of my farm…  my horses… and a cadence of life that has held me for 11 years.

This has been a long, drawn out dance… but one that is coming to a close.

In the past, I processed (or didn’t process) painful things, by moving on, focusing on all that was ahead, staying positive, and closing the door tightly behind me. On a few memorable occasions, I also piled everything I could find in front of said door, in the hopes that I would never have to open it again.

Obviously, this didn’t serve me well, and after loosing pieces of myself behind all those doors, and dedicating much of my mid to late 30’s to reclaiming those pieces, I wanted to do this transition consciously.

A couple of weeks ago, while walking, I was asking God how to do this. When Jeff got back to the house from his run, he said that midway through, he got a download to suggest to me that I write a letter to the farm, saying goodbye, and leave it tucked away somewhere like the attic. Well, I can’t say that answers always come that quickly for me, but I took it to heart.

Today, we’re going back to clear out the attic… when I woke up this morning, I knew it was time to write the letter.

I can now, as I’ve written it, feel the gift in this ‘goodbye’. The loss is like a deep bruise, which I believe will heal over time, but as I face it, claim it, and rather than walk away, embrace all that I loved about it… I feel a different path being forged. One that doesn’t leave pieces of me behind closed doors. But rather takes my whole story with me, as I move forward.

402413044_4c514c7d49

I wanted to share the letter with you…  as an testament to this part of my story, and a way to let you see behind the curtain of how an introvert processes.

Thank you to all of you who have sent love and support through this time… and I’m looking forward to the beautiful season of expansion and growth that is opening up for me now, as part of the gift of ‘goodbye’.

July 20, 2014

Dear Morning Glory Farm,

Where do I even begin?

It’s unfathomable that I am saying ‘goodbye’ to you, and I have put off writing this letter ‘till the very last.

You have been such a huge part of my life – holding me through the end of my marriage – through the separation and divorce – And then you gave me a place to begin rebuilding my life.

With you, I lived my lifelong dream of owning horses, and having a horse farm. For that alone, I will be eternally grateful. I loved that… going out to feed in the evenings and watching the sunset glow turn your trees and fields golden… the deep quiet of the winter stars at night, and then as the seasons rolled round to spring again, the sounds of the tree frogs and crickets… I loved the bird song during the day… sitting on the front porch, or walking through the grass while I coached, and listening to the abundance of life that held me here.

I loved you in every season… as the air grew sharp and cool with fall, smelling the wood stove fires, when I stepped outside… taking picture after picture of the leaves changing color. In winter, blanketed in the silence of snow, you turned into a fairyland – my own magical ‘Narnia’. At Christmas, you brought me back to my childhood, with the wonder and delight of seeing you lit up like a gingerbread house, when Joshua strung you with lights. It was so beautiful… Turning into the drive at night, you were warm and welcoming, and full of joy.

And always your trees spoke to my heart… elms, oaks, pecan, hickory, magnolia, sycamore… Your huge, beautiful trees… so filled with life, standing sentinels throughout the seasons. I loved lying underneath them – watching the leaves and branches silhouetted against the sky… listening to the birds as they flew through them… hearing the scream of the hawk launching from their tops, to hunt rodents in the pastures.

You are where I Woke Up. You called me back to life… with the land, the space, the horses, the trees, the wood stoves, the sky, and the night stars overhead. You called to me… and I couldn’t continue to live shut down in my ‘nice’ suburban life. You called to the wildness within, and I answered. And when that Waking shook my world, you held me, nurtured me, and coaxed me open, over and over again. You gave me a safe place to come back home inside myself.

Thank you.

Forever, thank you.

I know after the divorce, it became a double edged sword… the burden was so heavy to carry alone, and though Joshua stepped in and picked it up with me, it wasn’t for him to carry long term. That knowing began to grind me down. The expense… the weight of so much to manage… And I didn’t want to see it, because it meant leaving my horses… leaving you. And I couldn’t imagine my life anywhere else.

I always thought I’d grow old here; that Jeff and I would marry in your pasture… that I would have my horses here with me to the end of their days. I thought I would be here, until I grew too old to maintain you. But it was not to be.

I had, and still have, no idea how to say ‘goodbye’ to you. I still can’t believe that I now live without my horses… that missing is like a constant ache, and when they left here, so much of the life left with them.

But this is the final goodbye. It is my turn to leave now.

We’re building a sweet and beautiful space in our new home, but it’s not a replacement. It’s something different altogether.

And so I have to say ‘goodbye’. You will always be a part of me… and I pray that the next people blessed to live here, find as much life as I did.

Thank you.

For all that you are.

For all that you’ve woken up in me.

For all that you’ve been in my life.

For the gifts, the life, and now the memories that you’ve given me.

Namaste.

Elizabeth

moon tree

 

Related Posts

Being a better human

Being a better human

The large roan gelding stands frozen, eyes cautious and unblinking. I sit to his left and behind, the belly of the long lead rope on the ground,...

You’re not wrong

You’re not wrong

Buddy freezes, his generously sized ears straining towards the line of Canadian geese, strut-waddling just outside the back arena fence; the scary...

Catching on…

Catching on…

Deetz, our alpha gelding, met me at the paddock gate, eager to come out. Between the cold of January and the crazy amount of rain we’ve been...

Join the Conversation

15 Comments

  1. Suzanne

    What a powerful part of your life! It is so touching and makes my heart feel empty and hurting for you….(as if I can’t imagine how you got thru that) but then I try to remember that God’s plan was being followed and fulfilled in His way and thankfully you were listening. And now life is taking you (and Jeff!) to another whole level of excited, happy times together… to fulfilling new heights! While a part of me feels that emptiness from ‘feeling’ your pain as you closed that door, I can also feel your excitement now as you embark on new adventures together! I can’t wait to hear all that life (and God) has in store for you!

    Reply
  2. Janice Medhurst

    I also thank you Elizabeth for sharing so eloquently this gift of goodbye to your beloved life on your farm..and the horses that shared it with you. A treasure always..beautiful captured moments in the photos..thanks sincerely!

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Thank you, Janice… It is from my heart, and it means more than I can say, to know it touches others… blessings!! xo

      Reply
  3. Judy

    Wow! Thanks for sharing. You are opening up a new chapter.

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Thank you, Judy… I find that I’m liking new chapters better, when I close the old ones with grace and compassion. What a lesson to finally begin learning!! xo

      Reply
  4. Lorraine

    So moving, Elizabeth! Aahhhh……………… Much Love, Lorraine

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Thank you, Lorraine… It’s been a powerful season of change. I am looking forward to all that lies ahead!! xo

      Reply
  5. Jeff Kennon

    So sorry for all of this but glad you are moving on.

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Holding you hand through it all, my love… You know you have been my anchor in these seas. xoxo

      Reply
  6. Dee Dee

    Every moment we spent together on Morning Glory Farm was a gift to me, too. Thank you for sharing it with me!

    Your goodbye letter has deeply moved me. Tears are turning to smiles as I imagine all that the future holds for you in this new season.

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Thank you, DeeDee… I loved the time we spent there together… dancing with the horses!! It was a gift to share that with you… and I look forward to what this new season holds… xo

      Reply
  7. Colleen

    My dear precious friend… Your divinely aligned sacred journey will be honored in my heart with loving prayers, light and tender hugszzzz… I am so proud of you for your courage, authenticty and healing…Blessings with all my love and support xxx

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      Thank you so much, Colleen… You are another one who has navigated this kind of journey with such courage and grace. You are an example to me… xo

      Reply
  8. Judy Schofield

    Thank you for sharing. It brought tears to my eyes.

    Reply
    • Elizabeth Love

      I know you understand, Judy… Thank you. xo

      Reply

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *