Today I bought a rocking dragon for my best friend’s new baby (whom I am the godmother of). I found it second hand on Facebook Marketplace. I went to the lady’s house to pick it up. I met her two daughters who were about three or four now and too big for the rocking dragon. Their father was in the yard constructing a trampoline for them now. As I walked away with the rocking dragon one of the girls said “bye bye rocking dragon”. A great deal of sadness struck me like lighting. I know what it’s like to say goodbye to something you’ve loved, even when it’s no good for you anymore.

Here is a picture of the rocking dragon. On it are two knitted animals which I recently bought as well, but for me this time. I needed some softness in my life. They were lovingly handmade by women in Kenya who are part of a fair trade enterprise called “Kenana Knitters”. It was love at first sight. I named the Lion “Maggie” and the elephant “Bon Bon” and I plan to take them to my appointment with Jordan tomorrow.

Rocking dragon

Life is full of hellos and goodbyes. We sell our old rocking dragon which we have outgrown so another child can enjoy it, and we move onto bigger and better things: a new trampoline! We sell the animals we have lovingly knitted and are supported financially while a girl in Australia is comforted by our creations. We are discharged from our mental health service and another unwell person is admitted. Maybe I have outgrown the service, like the children had outgrown their old rocking dragon. Maybe, as I wrote in another post, I need to lose my case worker to clear way for the new life I’ve been asking for and the new person I am becoming. Maybe I need to trust that God has greater things in store for me.

All I know is that we are all the beneficiary of someone letting go, and the letting goer. Still, sometimes nothing will take away the pain and the fear. As Nate Postlethwait wrote, “There aren’t enough words to explain what it’s like to have to walk away from what’s familiar because it’s hurting you, while trusting what’s next will offer relief. It’s lonely to lose your anchors. It’s brave to want more. On your hardest days, may your bravery, help you be.”