This untidy display must seem unnecessarily dramatic to the
casual observer. After all, my losses are the occurrences of an ordinary life.
Families move. Groups multiply, Schedules change. Friends disappoint. I wish
the fashion police of my unkempt soul would blow his whistle and command, “There
is nothing to see, here, folks. Move along now.”
For the people who linger questioningly over me, I can explain.
There is no definitive scale for sadness. Each person’s sorrow is uniquely
hers. It is what she can bear—or not bear—at the moment. Examining it in light
of someone else’s cause for sorrow is pointless. Sorrows cannot be compared.
Furthermore the weight of sorrow is cumulative. Each sorrow
compounds the loss of what has gone before. What else could explain the
peculiar tears that appeared when I was making plans to ship a dog and a cat to
their owner? A dog and cat that aren’t even mine! Their removal from my life is
merely the latest in a growing series of losses.
I am tempted to protect myself as I skulk through my days in
this misshapen garment of sadness. Today I found myself avoiding certain aisles
at the grocery store, aisles with baby items, aisles with tempting children’s
treats, aisles with pet supplies—all aisles that bring back memories of happier
times. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I retraced my steps, knowing
that succumbing to an avoidance pattern would produce an increasingly narrow
world.
All is not loss. In spite of the dark tone of these mournful
musings, I am reminded continually there is One who never changes. I cling to
the truth that “Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).
While the circumstances of my life waver, the One in whom I find life never
does. People may come and go, but Jesus has consistently lived up to his
promise, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). If you too
have locked arms with Jesus to steady yourself in an unsteady world, then you
will understand the statement I am about to make.
In the midst of sorrow, I choose joy.
I
will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has
clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he
has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself
like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and
as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its
sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up,
so the Lord
God will cause righteousness and praise
to
sprout up before all the nations. (Isaiah 61:10-11)
(If you see me around still dressed in tatters, please
remember emotions don’t immediately answer to decisions of the will.)
Beautifully written...I wonder if these kinds of sorrows deepen our capacity for joy. Maybe all kinds of sorrows do--I've not had to experience many others. But this particular kind of letting go, of choosing joy even when it means loss, makes me feel bigger inside--kind of cavernous, and a bit empty, of course, but perhaps that cavern is meant to be filled.
ReplyDeleteSanta Barbara claimed two of my friends this summer--a dear new friend and a dear old friend. And in my happiness for their new, exciting opportunities, I'm filled with that cavernous sense of loss and expectation.
I went to your blog and noticed you hadn't added anything in a few years. You need to start writing again. I enjoyed what you had written.
DeleteThank you for leaving me a comment, and especially for your insights. They leave me thinking. And I like that!