“Thus says the LORD: speak to them this word: Let my eyes stream with tears day and night, without rest, Over the great destruction which overwhelms the virgin daughter of my people, over her incurable wound.” -
Jeremiah 14: 15-17
Does rain overshadow sunshine or the thorn negate the beauty of a rose blossom?
Did Jesus not enjoy his final supper with his dearest friends while dreading the upcoming suffering in Gethsemane and on Golgotha?
Can happiness and sorrow intermix within ones soul without diminishing each other?
In our current climate of attempting to emerge from quarantine as awkwardly as a baby bird fleeing its nest for the first time, we’ve wavered between highs and lows. The pain of social isolation, and fears of uncertainty intertwined with the lessons learned: importance of gathering, simplicity and slowing down. Suffering shapes the soul. As I reflect on my own cross to bear towards heaven, the death of my older sister by suicide I’ve come to this strange solution: joy and sorrow are two sides of the same coin equally valuable. So, I live in this happy sad.
I am happy. I am sad. These statements are not mutual exclusive. I have much to rejoice at, My Son is healthy and thriving. At his fifteen month checkup the doctor exclaimed how perfect my son is. Body weight, height and head circumference all in the high 80 percentile. A curious and helpful child, Matthew loves to unload dishwashers, fold laundry, get the mail and walk our neighbor’s Corgi around the block. His toddler adventurous side results in a lot of splashing in water, climbing on tables and squealing loudly as his Da Da chases him around the living room. We’ve reached a sweet spot of a steady schedule and simple pleasures such as watching pebbles ripple the surface of a creek. So even when the dark thoughts come, about the lack of his aunt or cousins from her come, his smile and finger eager to nose-bop brightens my mind.
Though my husband and I weathered many challenges our first two years of marriage (the birth of our son, the death of my sister, several job transitions and this pandemic), we’ve held on to each other, learning communication of needs and the extension of forgiveness. During the months of quarantine we’ve invested in furniture pieces (a bookcase, an ottoman) to beautify our home. Plus, my husband tolerates my endless need to rearrange, organize and purge closets and cabinets to create neat and cozy spaces. My sister’s crosses and favorite artworks from Malawi’s adorn our walls. Often, I reflect on how messy her home would be, and how effective she would counsel the communication in her own marriage.
For the first time in my brief three going on four year teaching journey, I’ve reached a non-stressful and productive point. I’ve achieved regular bookings and enjoying the one-on-one teaching aspect. A connection to the counseling Carolyn enjoyed the most- the deep meaningful clientele relationship that proved most effective for healing.
So much beauty, so many blessings , a graciously given peaceful season. I am happy . Yet , I am sad. A healthy son, a harmonious marriage, a lovely home and a steady job, cannot cover the ugly truth: my older sister killed herself a year ago. She’s gone, missed, an incurable wound, a cross to bear. I may organize, pray and play as much as possible. Yet happiness does not lessen sadness nor can sorrow overshadow joy. Nothing can or will make up for the loss of Carolyn. But the loss of Carolyn cannot steal the joy of our little family. Her death is sad. Period. No “buts.” My happiness grow. Period. No “buts”, some “ands.” So I live as a happy sad. We walk this earth as both living and dying.
“Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.”
Romans 6:3-4
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