Meloncholy Moments

I originally wrote this several weeks ago. But, I couldn't hit post. It seemed yet again whiney. I was concerned that my feelings would be misconstrued to those around me who read my blog.

But I know there is another readership out there too... my friends and former fellow expats who ask what repatriation is really like.

It's busy. And things are both new and old at the same time. It's often mundane, this life of ease in North America. It's wonderful to be around friends and family. It's challenging after being entirely independent, to come back to a sense of corporate community where people belong to clubs and communities and churches, and there is an expectation that you will do the same. We loved the autonomy of being 'just the five of us'. And we are experimenting with where we belong what our level of involvement will be. We are still moving slowly. We are just 13 or so weeks in.

With the loss of our dog this week there is the opportunity again to cry. To mourn. To show outwardly what we are feeling inside. In so many ways we are mourning more than just a faithful pet. (But she really was a sweet old gentle soul.) She was also an anchor of familiarity throughout this move. And, although she only joined us in China for a semester, she was there for the girlies as they prepared for a transition they were hesitant about.

We are a little over three months into our move. Month Four is usually the low mark. There is a sine curve we expect to follow... of highs and lows as we adjust to a culture and surrounding. There are going to be melancholy moments. And although I was reluctant to share this a few weeks ago, I share it now anyway, because it's on my heart, and a part of our life, and I've committed to saying what I need to say.

From late March

A friend in QD recently emailed and said that after reading our blog she thought I seemed melancholy.

And she's probably right. (Although whiney might have been another good descriptive for my drivel about the suitcases ... Of course we will travel again, just not every three months ... I can't wait to come visit my friends all over the globe!!)

There is a certain level of melancholy hanging over us. We're slogging our way through it. Anxious for spring and green. For a new season, a new phase, a new time in our lives.

A quick google search yielded this definition of the noun:

n.

1. depression, grief, sadness

Another read this way:

–noun

1.

a gloomy state of mind

2.

sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness.

Melancholy allows for a time for reflection. For ruminating.

I think I like description 'somber thoughtfulness' the best.

(But there are days when 'grief' and 'sadness' must each run their course too.)

And so melancholy it is.

And yet we know, this Lenten season will wane ... and life will become new and fresh and perhaps we will even gain a quiet strength that is developing even now, through these melancholy moments ...