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Good Grief: Joy Has a Twin Named Sorrow November 3,
2008 It seems that
life's joys grow exponentially as I get older--but so do its griefs.
It used to be that “bad” things happened just every so often--in
between patches of normal, happy life. Now it seems that extreme
joys and extreme pains co-exist constantly, like twins. This observation
began the week of my baby's due date last summer. My husband and
I received a phone call that our two nephews and niece had been
in a car accident with their grandmother who collided with a tracker-trailer
that had jackknifed. Two were airlifted to a hospital, the other
two taken to a closer, local hospital. It's amazing
how in times like that, I didn't question my faith or the power
of prayer. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Sorrow makes us all children
again, destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest knows nothing.”
Indeed, we knew nothing other than to pray. My husband and
I jumped in separate cars to cover both hospitals. We didn't know
if the children were going to live or die. Driving to the hospital,
I went into labor, but being just the beginning stages, I wasn't
sure if it was, so I didn't say anything. Everyone in
the accident lived, but my oldest nephew, Brock, suffered from two
broken legs and an internal head injury that is taking more than
a year to heal. His grandmother sustained a bad knee injury, but
recovered as well. We thanked God for His mercy. Many hours after
the accident, I recognized that I was truly in labor, but the stress
under which I went into labor caused my contractions to be irregular.
I was in labor for nearly 34 hours before the joy of my life, Madilyn,
was born. We thanked God again for a beautiful, healthy baby. More Joy, More Tragedy Two weeks after
Madilyn was born, my grandfather passed away unexpectedly. My mother
had been with me in Florida and left immediately to go home to Tennessee.
I flew up for the funeral a couple days later. A few weeks
later, I landed in the hospital for a week and had to have emergency
surgery. A month later, I had another surgery. All the while, Madilyn
was growing as was our love for her, and best of all, a new job
where I could work from home dropped in my lap. It was a dream come
true. Great joy, great sorrow existed side-by-side. The trend continued.
We got a big tax refund that year, and Jeff received a promotion
at work. Madilyn was growing like a weed and bringing joy to everyone
around her. Then, after
three months of bronchitis and pneumonia, we learned that my father
had cancerous cells in a lymph node under his arm. After much fasting
and prayer from the family, a PET scan revealed there was no other
cancer in his body and that the lymph node that was infected could
be removed. Praise God! I even testified in church at the news of
such a miracle. Then, a second test, a CAT scan, showed some “spots”
on Dad's brain. The cancer had spread. Happiness, then
sorrow ... What was going on? It seemed like there was one thing
after another. My pastor emailed me in the middle of this and encouraged
my husband and I to “feed your faith and not your fears.” Those days,
it was hard to feed my faith. I couldn't even find its mouth. But I'm doing
what I can to face life's realities head-on, because the alternative
is too bleak. In “Macbeth,” William Shakespeare's Malcolm said,
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak/ Whispers the
o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.” Join me as I
“give sorrow words” in this new series. I will explore grief's relationship
to faith, as we thankfully serve a God who shares in our suffering--“But
you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it
in hand” (Psalm 10:14, NIV). I hope that those who have faced
similar losses can identify with my journey through “good grief”
over the next few weeks and find some encouragement along the way.
This poem by
Emily Dickinson seemed to grasp it: I MEASURE every grief I meet With analytic eyes; I wonder if it weighs like mine, Or has an easier size.
I wonder if they bore it long, Or did it just begin? I could not tell the date of mine, It feels
so old a pain.1 Next Week: The
Purpose in the Pain © 2008, Cara
Davis ---------- Cara Davis
is a writer, editor, designer and regular contributor to ninetyandnine.com. Footnotes 1. Dickinson,
Emily. Complete Poems. 1924. Part One: Life, CXVI, line 1-8.
(http://www.bartleby.com/113/ |
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