On Mourning and Joy.featured
“I’m sitting here wondering if this will be my last Mother’s Day this side of heaven.”
Words sent to a dear friend that I had tried desperately not to acknowledge all day. Trying to beat back the creeping anguish of my uncertain health, fearing it would diminish the deep joy I have in being a mother and the celebration the day was meant to be.
As the words flowed out, so did the tears. I wept like I had wanted to weep that morning, kneeling to receive the Eucharist. And again when I knelt in the chapel to beg my beloved saints and intercessors to pray with me for my healing.
My tears of mourning at what this day may become for my children mixed with my tears of joy that these perfect little souls have been entrusted to my care for any number of their years.
In many ways, Mother’s Day was like so many others this past year: mourning and joy mixed seamlessly together. My joy made more vibrant by the depth of my mourning.
Even as I type, I hesitate to write these words. Sadness of any kind makes people uncomfortable. It is worrisome and painful to see someone we love grieve. I have seen time and again the honest concern from those who love me that if I think or grieve too much about my situation, I will fall into despair.
And yet, those who mourn are blessed. It is an act of mercy to mourn alongside others. Mourning isn’t only appropriate and right; it is singled out as something that draws us deeper into relationship with God.
Through my own experience and the beautiful example of others who mourn, I have come to understand that mourning is not merely sadness about our situation. It is our deep recognition and earnest response to something holy that has been broken.
The loss of a spouse. The death of a child. The severing of a friendship. Or in my case, a disease that would tear a mother and wife from those she is called to love intimately and walk alongside through life.
The subtle but vital difference between despair and mourning is the recognition that the holiness and joy of these relationships is what we are created for. They are what God intends and longs for us to experience.
It is right to mourn the uncertainty my children have had to experience watching me walk through this sickness. Their innocent hearts exposed to so much grief at such a gentle, young age. It is right to mourn with Jeff as we live with the real knowledge that our marriage could end too soon.
Christ himself mourned the death of his friend, Lazarus, even though it was temporary. God abhors the pain of our brokenness so deeply that he took it upon himself to heal it. To ensure that it is not how our story ends.
My joy in my vocation is made deeper because I recognize the beauty it was created to bring forth. This recognition happens just as profoundly in my mourning as in my joy. Both are a recognition of the infinite goodness we were created for and the sacrifice of love that heals the brokenness.
And so, on Mother’s Day, it is in my mourning that I am comforted and assured once again that my joy is right. And it is not in vain.
