Loss

Some things stick in our minds and never leave us. When in the midst of my panic attack, my friend Nikki Westby, a cognitive behavioral therapist, said something that had never occurred to me, and which hit me like a ton of bricks:

"From the moment we are born, we begin to experience loss."

Blink. Blink.

I've pondered those words for almost two years now, and the fruit has been profound.

It now makes perfect sense to me that every pain in life, every suffering we endure whether physical or mental or emotional, is connected to some kind of loss.

Loss of childhood.

Loss of youth.

Loss of innocence.

Loss of friendship.

Loss of a romance.

Loss of companionship.

Loss of a loved one.
Loss of a parent.
Loss of a sibling.
Loss of a spouse.
Loss of a child.

Loss of a job.

Loss of a community.

Loss of prosperity.

Loss of security.

Loss of health.

Loss of abilities.

Loss of pets.

Loss of homes.

Loss of expectations.

Loss of an intact family.

Loss of good looks and beauty.

Loss of memories.

Loss of material possessions.

Loss of autonomy.

Loss of one's good reputation.
Loss of identity.
Loss of homeland.

Loss of physical comfort.

Loss of mental acuity.

Loss of dreams. 

And on and on and on.

Ultimately and inevitably, it all culminates in the loss of life itself.

In the western world, we tend to live as if death will never come for us, and we blot it out of our minds by seeking as much pleasure and material comfort as we can. We avoid suffering at all costs. But when we train so hard and condition ourselves so thoroughly for a pain-free existence, we are unprepared, shocked, and even indignant when loss does come our way. It was not, after all, a part of our carefully laid plans.

But no matter how fiercely committed we are to maintaining strict control of our lives, the losses will keep coming, and they will never let up. The more we fight and claw to hold on to the things that cannot ultimately stay in our grasp, the more we compound our pain, suffering, confusion, and angst. The longer we live, the more losses we will endure, and if we have not understood and accepted what God is doing for us, we risk becoming more and more anxious and fearful, perhaps even falling into despair.

What, then, do we do?

The way I see it, we should view every loss for what it is: Our loving Father detaching us from the things of this world, a world which is passing away, so that we might attach to Him. He only allows us to lose something in order to gain something greater. 

Detachment from the world = Attachment to God. 

For a while now, I've been all about the concept of total surrender, abandonment to a God who loves us and can be trusted. Surrender does not mean passivity, as of course we may and should fight disease, disaster, injustice, sin, corruption, and every kind of moral and physical evil while we are here. Fight the good fight every day, for sure, but do so with a proper understanding of holy detachment, and the realization that every earthly loss really is a step toward Heaven. 

When we truly trust the Lord, we no longer live in fear of losses that are beyond our control. The pain of the loss will still be felt, even searingly, but the fear and anxiety that precede and accompany that loss will be replaced with an interior peace, and yes, as the saints tell us, even supernatural, unimaginable joy. 

Back to Nikki's words, then: The image of a newborn baby beginning a lifetime of loss is no longer jarring or tragic, but hopeful. Each loss is a detachment that marks a human life's journey all the way to the Beatific Vision, the end for which we were made. 

From the perspective of Heaven, our loss is gain. And all is well.