As we come to the end of the year, a kind of natural review starts to happen.
Even if you’re not consciously reflecting, it’s as if an inner slideshow starts playing—moments of celebration, challenge, surprise, beauty, and pain rising to the surface.
Often, this includes pockets of sadness that still
want to move through your body.
Even if you’re a reflective, insightful person who processes emotions as they arise, there can still be layers that need attention… more that wants to be released.
I felt this today.
I woke up with a heavy feeling over my heart.
A
feeling I hadn’t experienced in months. It was the same heaviness I felt when Greg was first diagnosed with cancer.
Back then it felt crushing—like a cannonball lodged in my chest.
This morning it felt more like a grapefruit.
Still heavy, but different.
My first
reaction was confusion. Why am I sad? I told myself I should feel happy—there has been so much healing, so many miracles, so much to be grateful for.
I tried to distract myself with work. I tried to journal. I prayed.
Eventually I realized: I just needed to cry.
So I closed the door to my studio.
I played Healing Waters by the artist Ali Maya—whose opening line is, “Today I felt sorrow move through me.”
And I let the tears flow. There was no story attached, no specific memory. Just tears.
As I cried, I felt Mother Mary with me. I could see Our Lady of Guadalupe’s cloak of stars wrapped gently around my
shoulders.
And I understood: this too is part of closing the year with grace… part of preparing for what’s next.
There was nothing to judge, analyze, or fix.
Only tears.
So, my dear, if sadness rises for you in these final weeks of the year, make space for
it.
Let it move through.
And then allow yourself to feel the lightness that follows.
You are not alone.
With so much love,
Lisa
P.S. The 11th Annual Guadalupe Gathering is this Sunday. If
you feel called to join us, I would love to have you there. Click the link below to register.
