The last time I wrote for Christian Perspectives, I talked about a tuning fork that my dad had used for many years which had come into my possession. I told you all that the tuning fork was a symbol of my dad's faith. Striking the fork produced middle "C" which gave the standard for tuning the whole piano. Faith gives us the base to tune our lives, helping us to live in harmony with the love, grace and peace of God.

But the story doesn't end there.

Because many people responded to that column, I started taking the tuning fork with me when I did presentations on spirituality. Telling the story of my dad and his battle with Alzheimer's and sharing the lesson of the tuning fork seemed to resonate with others in a positive way.

Several weeks ago, while at such an event, I lost the tuning fork. When I got home from the presentation, I phoned back. The staff searched the rooms that I had been in and the parking lot and the woman who drove me home searched her van. It was to no avail. The fork was lost.

My initial reaction was sadness. I experienced grief which, as we know, is associated with our sense of connection with what has been lost. It was just a small, oddly shaped metal object but it meant a great deal to me. But after a couple of days hoping that it might turn up, I came to the realization that it was permanently lost.

I don't know about you, but it can be aggravating to me when I am told to "let it go". When something is bothering me or I am processing my reactions to a loss or hurt, I don't need that advice, no matter how well meaning it is. However, there comes a p o i n t when that is exactly what I need to intentionally choose to do. I need to surrender to God's spirit within me, and release my sadness to His divine care.

Release helps us move through times of loss. About a week after my mother died in 1985, I had a dream. I saw her in two rooms. In one room she was sick and weak and for some reason I had my camera and I was desperately taking pictures of her, trying to prolong the moment. In another room, I could not see her clearly, because the room was bathed in a light that bright and warm. In that room I felt peace.

F r o m that day on, with God's gentle help, I was able to begin to release my m o t h e r into the arms of a God who loved her far more than I ever could. Although I was pregnant with my first child, I had to let go of the future that I had wanted, with my mom involved in the lives of my children, and embrace a different future in which they would know her through my remembrances.

The last time I wrote about my dad's tuning fork, I wrote about connection with something which nurtured my spirit. Today, I write about letting go of something that had meaning to me.

Both are part of the healthy Christian life. We are meant to form connections with others and have healthy outlets for our spiritual expression. But we also need to develop spiritual maturity, to know when we must let go of something we hold dear and place it in the hands of a God who loves us.

Being able to do both is balance. In balance we find growth. In growth we move closer to God.

"And that's about it, friends. Be cheerful. Keep things in good repair. Keep your spirits up. Think in harmony. Be agreeable. Do all that, and the God of love and peace will be with you for sure."

2 Corinthians 3:11 (The Message)