I've started this intro so many times.
Last week, realizing my Jan/Feb newsletter still hadn't gone out, I messaged my friend, Kim, and told her that everything I planned to write seems trite right now. Kim responded with these words: "I'm just remembering that joy and sorrow can coexist. And I'm open to noticing both."
A new war right on the tails of several years full of death and loss and grief is a lot to bear. But I also agree with Kim. I know that I can feel sorrow and also notice the good around me. I can find joy in my son's baptism, in the way the blue sky and sunshine highlight the snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance, in my five-year-old's giggle during our tickle fight. I can be disturbed by violence, greed, and racism and also moved by the generosity of strangers taking in refugees, the sight of strollers provided for Ukrainian mothers in need, and a young boy playing the piano even while bombs fall on his country.
I was in a writing workshop a couple months ago, and the facilitator asked us when our writing is strongest--which emotions do we write well? Answering honestly, I said that my best writing happens when I'm writing about anger, sadness, or frustration. I think this is because I am really good at feeling those emotions on a visceral level. I sit with them and ruminate on them and let them simmer. When it comes to joy, happiness, and excitement, I don't always let those feelings linger for very long. I would do well to really sink into those feelings, to marinate in them for awhile, but I don't. The next tough thing happens and the scales tip in favor of despair and sorrow again.
Am I the only one who's like this?
It's sobering to think about this cycle, but I have hope that I can hold all of these things in a more balanced way. Sure, the balance will shift now and then, but I can choose to cling more tightly to joy. I can take time to focus on happy moments and seek out people, places, and experiences that are life-giving.
Just today, I found joy in hugs from kindergarteners, sitting with my dog and giving her ear scratches, my toddler saying a new word, an open table at the coffee shop, a new donut flavor at the same coffee shop, a video tour of our new home, a mural by a local artist, seeing a stranger help someone with car trouble, and homemade artwork with the inscription 'I love you Mom!'
I'm thankful for my friend's words, and I hope they encourage you as well. I pray you are finding ways to carry joy as well as sorrow. Yes, feel the pain and the hurt. Take it and let it change you; use it to make something beautiful. And don't forget to hold onto the joy in your life and let that change you as well.
A Prayer for the Change in Seasons
Lord,
As we prepare to bid farewell to winter, we give thanks for the winters in our lives and the ways in which you have used them to grow and change us. When the seasons shift, may we hold fast to the lessons we learned in the cold and the dark, even when the light shines brightly on our faces.
Help us to find joy in our days. Let the light guide and warm us, and give us courage to share that light with each person we encounter. May we shine with a love that comes from you.
Help us to remember that the calendar and the weather (and our hearts) are not always in sync. Give us patience when we don't get what we expect. Be our strength when it feels like change will never come.
And during this liturgical season of Lent, may we find pockets of time to retreat to the desert with You. Make us people who seek to know you better each day. Give us hearts to love and hands to serve, no matter which way the wind blows.
Amen
Journal Prompt / Reflection
How do sorrow and joy currently coexist in your life?
What has brought you joy today? This week? This year?