June 26
Naked I came from the womb of the earth, naked I return. The Lord gave, the Lord has taken — praised be his name.
The Book of Job (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Naked I came from the womb of the earth, naked I return. The Lord gave, the Lord has taken — praised be his name.
Much of what you call yours began without any action on your part. The language you think in, you learned before you could choose it. A friendship began because someone happened to sit next to you. Your health, too, was simply there at first, without your having done anything for it.
Over time this beginning blurs. What you have had for a long time feels like something you are owed. If it is lost, the loss seems like an injustice, although no one had ever promised you anything.
Remembering that something was a gift can soften the loss. But perhaps you don't want that at all. In grieving, you also take what you have lost seriously, and an insight that comes too quickly could make it smaller than it was.
Gratitude and acceptance are two different things. You can be glad that something was given to you without accepting that it is now gone. Anyone who says both in the same breath doesn't necessarily sound composed. Often the voice stays audibly uneven.
