How to be Sad. And Then How to Stop.

A Melancholy Confession and Encouragement

This is a pretty dull-drum-flavored note. Forgive me. I secretly hope one person feels the same. I hope so for two reasons: to encourage that person and relieve me of this article's self-centered downer tone, making it tolerable. So, let me be a downer for a minute?

This time of year is wonderfully melancholy if you have time to breathe and think, which is why it is designed that most of us don’t— have time, that is. Sometimes, we find a second to breathe. For this little note, I am defining melancholy as: A sad and/or depressed state of being for no particular reason. Somehow, it seems wonderfully mature to feel particularly somber this time of year.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Hints of autumn and its glorious temperatures slip through seasonal boundaries and promise cooler days. Summer responds by grasping at the days left with sweltering heat, hoping to leave a mark while he can. The stores roll out squeaky-wheeled garment racks with hooded jackets and shirts with pumpkins. I hear tales of some already listening to Yuletide tunes here and there. Peppermint-flavored things will soon pop up on menus everywhere.

Kids are back in school, and if parents had time to think this time of year, they would sigh and remember when school supplies consisted of crayons, safety scissors, and glue sticks. Bright folders, fun lunch boxes, and that year’s cartoon star-emblazoned backpacks are soon traded for mini-fridges, housewarming gifts, or calls when there is time as children become adults and study, work, or search.

All of this is good in a way. Time goes forward as it should.
All of this is sad, in a way. Time goes forward and forces us to leave things where they happened.

It is, at least for me, easy to be disappointed this time of year. Not with any particular event but with the fact that life moves at this breakneck speed. Anyone with me? It feels like a rollercoaster, and I am supposed to be enjoying it…but….it…is…so…fast that I don’t have time to enjoy it, and all of these turns and dips hurt. Can’t we just take a few laps at a nice easy pace and talk?! But when you are on them, you must act like you enjoy rollercoasters, even if they are too fast.

This time of year makes the area in the stomach where precious memories are kept ache. Not for any reason. I think it is the weather, maybe? Or the changes, maybe? Or my hope that one day soon, things will finally be eternal. Whatever it is, this time of year affects that area.

I doubt if any other melancholics find it soothing to imagine being outside hunkered down in a flannel jacket, beat-up coffee cup in hand, alone, by a fire, sulking and thinking of days gone by. The steam from the coffee drifting away, like all things do, of course. Each slurp, a moody resignation that life is computers and speed, and there’s barely time to slurp coffee. Is it just me?

Too sad? I know!

So, to keep the flannel in the closet this time of year, here is what I do…

I talk to the Lord about it and remember a few things.

1. Moments are meant to be used up.
   There is a temptation to try and record all of our moments now. I wonder if having a camera and camcorder in our palms has made us feel like we must capture every moment or we’ll lose it. In the past, we had pictures of significant events and days, but now, every event asks to be memorialized. Daily events feel like beautiful butterflies that must be netted to be enjoyed. We try to snatch them out of the air with a click. But like butterflies, they die if we try to hold on to them too long.
   
   Moments are meant to be lived and enjoyed. How can we fully drink in the moment and laugh deeply if we must be prepared to say “cheese” at any time? This is not an argument against pictures of the moments, but rather permission to return to enjoying it.
   
   God has given us this time to live. And, if we are intent on saving the moments instead of burning them up in love, laughter, pain, prayer, work, hope, and effort, we may be rebuked like the man who chose to safely keep his gift instead of using it. Who better to fully enjoy temporary moments than those of us with eternal life?
   
   So, use em. Even if they are scarce this time of year, use moments. Moments around the table with your children to talk, argue (with passion, joy, and respect…but loudly if needed), or read a poem to everyone (do we still have poems?).
   Use moments for crying, laughter, homework, silence… use them up like they were meant to be.

   No matter how many pictures we take, no matter how many scrapbooks we make, no matter how many moments we invade with a rolling camera, we will die. We will vanish. We cannot grab and hold…But this shouldn’t inspire melancholy; it should only tinge the sweet with the bitter. Don’t resent the moments simply they cannot be frozen. Taste them. Savor them. Give thanks for that daily bread. Manna doesn’t keep overnight. More will come in the morning.
   —N. D. Wilson
   

2. Faithful is better than famous.
   Look, not many people are going to know us. Some more than others, but most of us will not be famous. In fact, our own families will forget us soon enough.
   
   I told you this was a downer…
   
   Can you tell me your great-great grandpa’s name? His wife? His story? His favorite food? What was his most significant accomplishment?
   Unless you just signed up for Ancestry.com, you likely didn’t know the answer to these questions.
   
   But did his life matter?
   
   Without a doubt. You are here because of it. And, unless he was a rascal, he mattered to those around him. His daily work, love, provision, and faith surely gave life and joy to those around him.
   
   Being faithful in your home is glorious.
   Being faithful in your life is glorious.
   
   This means we are daily doing wonderful things. Maybe not Facebook-post-worthy, but wonderful. Faithfulness is glorious; it is also easy to miss because it is repetitive. How wonderful is the sun? How often is it here? The most wonderful things are often everyday things. That common glory is spread in normal ways:
   

   As we do jobs with creativity and diligence.
   As we cook for our loved ones.
   As we pray for our spouse.
   If single, as we build community with and pray for friends and family.
   Homework, practice, morning prayer, dinner…all are so common and glorious.
   
   So do the everyday glorious things, like:
   Join and stay at a church.
   Gather with the Church.

   Begin gathering consistently with a small group of believers and encourage, laugh, and carry daily burdens.
   
   It is easy to think that exceptional events form us and those with us. In truth, the faithful way we walk forms the people around us and us. Because it is unspectacularly-common, our daily moments don’t seem to hold the same power that a trip, event, or purchase may bring, but in truth, this is where our lives are lived and our moments are spent. Jesus turned normal water into wine. We can tend to turn wine into water. Seeing normal minutes as glorious gifts helps us move from melancholy to joy.

   “We should always endeavor to wonder at the permanent thing, not at the mere exception. We should be startled by the sun, and not by the eclipse. We should wonder less at the earthquake, and wonder more at the earth.”
   ― G.K. Chesterton

3. One day, time will be gone in a good way.
   I think the melancholy feelings that come from all the changes I mentioned are rooted in my Christian belief. Part of me knows that good things should not end. Part of me knows that time should never run out.
   
   After all, I am headed to a place where God will wipe away tears. All my tears of regret will be gone. All the tears from a sweet hurt trying to understand how our girls went from pigtails and are now behind steering wheels, will be gone. Deep yearnings to hold on to fellowship while knowing things will change will be replaced with unending togetherness.

   
   On that Great Day, when Jesus returns, quick visits will give way to abiding. Sickness will surrender to true well-being. Night will once and forever break into Day. Death will fully and finally be swallowed up in Life Himself. And all these moments of ours will lead right into endless living…like we’ve (and He) always wanted. Forever, we will be freed from trying to hold on to all the good things because it will forever be glorious.

   
   No more goodbyes, but eternal living.
   

I am still getting my flannel out, though.