Morning, Mourning, and Let it Be

Last night, there was a School Board meeting here in Seattle where the Board voted on boundary changes.  Part of my volunteer work means following this and in some ways, being a part of it.  I am not going to talk about the whos and whats and whys.  I am going to talk about the morning and mourning after the vote.

The morning after brings change.  I was thinking about this as I was walking Fox after I dropped the boy off at the bus.  It was a cold yet bright, sunny morning, fallen leaves covered in mist and frozen to to the ground.  With any change, there is a loss.  It might a good loss -- meeting a new friend might mean the loss of loneliness.  In those cases, we look at the upside of gaining a new friend in terms of what has been found -- companionship, camaraderie, fellowship.

But other times, when we look a change, we look at the loss of what we had.  It is hard, and unpleasant.  It can make us mad, sad and want to tear our hair out, especially for those who are most impacted or who worked hard to make sure the changes were in the best interest of the greater good.

When a change impacts a larger number of people -- say the families of 51,000 students -- emotions are all over the map, coming in every color of the rainbow.  One group's win could be another group's loss.  And of the mourners, people might be sad for very different reasons.  What is for the greater good might place extra hardship on certain individuals.  I was reading some comments last night and saw pictures of families at the meeting carrying signs.  Each of those signs had different words, but they all meant "Please don't hurt my child."

I've been through several major tragedies.  Epic ones.  I am not saying that moving one kid to another school does not cause angst and anguish.  Rather, losses have similarities whether they are big losses, little losses and medium ones.  First is mourning the change.  The second is coming together.  The third is rebuilding in the new world, until we come back to ordinary time.  But first today, let us be.

After my daughter Ada died, I was in a restaurant with my husband when the Beatles' song "Let it Be" came on.  I had heard it hundreds of times but never fully grasped the meaning.  I had tried so hard to do everything right.  Everything.  And the outcome was not what I had planned or expected.  I had no control.  I didn't die, so I still had to get up every morning and carry on.  I had to rebuild, create a new life that was far different from the one I wanted.  It was horrible.  "Let it Be" does not mean give up or give in.  It means sometimes things hurt, and is okay to feel the pain.

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be