The Intersections When Joys Meet Sorrows
It’s been quite the week around here. That very pregnant daughter I mentioned in last week’s column had her baby. His name is George, and he joins his two brothers to make a very bustling and loving family. This is our 13th grandchild. My husband and I are overflowing with gratitude at the larger world of bustle and love that we share with all our “little ones.” The day George was born radiated with our family happiness. My heart is full of joy.
At the same time, while we are in celebration mode, my very dear friend is burdened with sadness at the death of her mom. Although expected, this passing has stirred unexpected layers of grief that beg space for tears to flow. My heart is heavy for my friend.
Profound joy and weighted sadness beating simultaneously in the same heart space is not a new phenomenon. Most of us know the ebb and flows of life are preordained companions. While sorrow thirsts for joy, it is the presence of sadness that gives space for joy to rise. The intersections of such momentous life events are especially poignant as we enter the sacred space of Holy Week.
Today is Palm Sunday, the day of Jesus’ triumphant return to Jerusalem. Scriptural accounts of this day include parade and fanfare. However, we all know the celebration bellowing through waving palms is short lived. Within days, according to scripture, unimaginable pain and loss will bestow upon Jesus through his crucifixion and death. The accounts are harrowing, creating a contrast in stories we see unfold through this coming week. The threads of Palm Sunday gladness and Good Friday torment are woven together, creating a tapestry that’s made possible only through the intersections where ache meets hope.
Holy Week offers us an opportunity to connect and find relatable meaning in the journey from triumph to abandonment; from comfort to torture, and ultimately from brokenness and death to the new life we celebrate on Easter. I’m sure this Easter morning will feel quite different for so many.
For my daughter the days leading up to Easter (although probably exhausting) will be full of joy and wonder as her family readjusts to a new wholeness. I imagine her engulfment in all things happy and joyful. What better manifestation of hope can there be than the gift of an infant child.
For my friend, Easter morning will be very different. My guess is the heaviness of her grief might feel more acute as this is the first Easter without the simple opportunities to connect with her mom. We don’t realize how much head and heart space is dedicated to one we love so much until they are gone. I’m sure she would love to pick up the phone one more time to call her mom.
When I shared with my friend the news of my grandson’s arrival, we imagined her mom wishing George well as they crossed paths in the portal of life. The sweet visual of her mom imparting all things hopeful to this almost born little boy made us both smile.
I hope George is blessed with the gift of trust as his big life unfolds. Even during those times when sadness bestows unimaginable heaviness and grief, snippets of joy rise, like a restorative balm that soothes the hurting heart. Good Fridays are inevitable. Such uninvited struggles in life are a surety, but so are the restorative powers of love and joy. Holy week reminds us of those intersections where gladness meets sorrow. I have come to believe that when we wrap ourselves in the swathe of trust, the possibilities for Easter joys will rise, paving a chance to reset towards a new intersection of life.
Photo by Diogo Nunes on Unsplash