Am I Happy or am I Joyful?
Some of my recent posts have reflected thoughts and struggles that have been on my mind so much lately. Even in the past few days, I have deeply struggled with the death of my friend Dean. Which has, quite honestly, been a little bit unsettling for me. Dean was a very special friend to me and to our family, but the fact is he was a guy, I’m a girl, and so it isn’t like he was my best bosom friend. Not even close.
I suspect that the struggle over Dean goes deeper and really reflects the many losses I have suffered over the past four or so years. Both of my parents passed away within less than three years of each other. And folks I’m only forty-one (but shhhh, don’t tell Sally–she thinks I’m 101). I am young to be facing life without the input and guidance of a mom and dad. My children are young to have grandparents whom they knew very well and were close to removed from their lives. It took a long time to get used to not just picking up the phone to tell my mom about Sally’s latest antic or Drew’s latest achievement. I weep over Dean’s children–if I am hurting at 41, I cannot imagine the loss they feel at their young ages. I think my sorrow and extreme sense of loss over Dean probably reflects and encompasses a lot more than I realize.
And by the way, I realize that this post sounds neither happy nor joyful at this point, but bear with me.
Another grief wrapped up in all of my emotions right now is loss of relationship. Not only due to death but due to circumstances, misunderstandings, lack of time, hurtful attitudes, and moving forward. Relationships are tricky, and it is so easy to just walk away. Much easier than toughing things out and being vulnerable. And so many times, I have screwed that up.
I was expressing these feelings of loss and sadness to a friend, and she put it so well. We were not made for loss! Of course death, separation, sorrow cut us at the core. We were made for eternity. For permanence. For no end to our relationships, no sudden halts, no death, no awkwardness because we have sinned against a friend. It’s foreign to our soul, and so our soul grieves.
But, and here’s the happy thought, there can be joy! No, I’m not feeling really happy right now. I’m sad and I’m weeping and I’m hurting. But there is joy! Deep within, I am being soothed with the peace of Jesus. I KNOW that this suffering, this sorrow–for me, for my friends, for Dean’s children–it is temporary. Someday we will wonder how such a blink of an eye seemed so all-consuming.
I tend to hash out my thoughts and think through words. I express my frustrations and struggles on here–my blog…my voice. Often I fear that is the only me that is portrayed–the suffering Chewymom. But there is deeper down a peace and a joy that girds me up and keeps me going. On the surface, I am an orphan and the tears come. But deep down, I am a beloved daughter, and there is peace. On the surface, a friend is gone, and all I have left is a beautiful table–one I can run my hands over and imagine Dean the carpenter sawing, sanding, finishing. Deep down there’s another carpenter who has just welcomed his broken carpenter home and who will welcome me as well. On the surface life hurts and I am almost crushed–and it hurts. and I am not happy about it! But deep down I am resting in the strong, loving arms of a heavenly Father, and I have joy.
March 13th, 2008 at 12:05 pm
Chewymom, this post made my heart ache to the point of physically hurting. But at the same time, I am so thankful that I can read what a beautiful, loving, articulate friend wrote from deep down in her soul. This writing will stick with me for a long time. I have a mother who is 88 years old. We have never been close and she has never shown Christ’s love to me. I know that sounds brutal but it’s true. I had to find it years later. She was not the kind of mother who would laugh with me. So I grieve that she is still alive and still miserable. I got off the track and rambled like I usually do. Your post is going to have my head spinning all day :>)
March 13th, 2008 at 12:09 pm
I wish that I could reach through the computer and give you a hug - we have so much in common - I lost both of my parents within 3 years - I just lost my Dad in October - and I’m also 41. It’s hard - it hurts - it REALLY hurts - and sometimes the hardest part is that I don’t really have anyone that I can “relate” to with the hurting. And the part that hurts the most is my children are 4 and 2 and will never know my parents. But, it IS at times like this that I honestly feel like God is carrying me through. (((((HUGS)))))
March 13th, 2008 at 12:16 pm
Hmmmm…I’ve never gathered “suffering Chewymom” from your blog. More like “real, honest human being,” which I always appreciate, since so many people are trying desperately to pull off “happy, cheerful all the time, rainbow butterflies.”
Great contrast between the inside and the outside. I’ve been there–in that tension between the good and the bad of things. Totally different circumstances (that’s a lotta death to endure), but still the same tension.
March 13th, 2008 at 2:03 pm
This was very beautiful, a post to mark and return to. I send my sympathy as you make your way through this sad time of loss. I know that grief can come in waves and sometimes those waves can knock your feet out from under you. And then at other times you know He’s there, undergirding it all. I’m thankful you have that sense of His love and comfort.
March 13th, 2008 at 6:24 pm
Jana B, Thank you for your kind words. You are an amazing woman, and it sounds like you have had to learn much of that on your own. I hope you aren’t too dizzy from the head-spinning!
Mama Grizzly, Oh {{hugs}} to you, too. Isn’t it hard to lose your parents so young? Some of my kids will remember my parents, but others will not at all. That is sad to me as well. I try to keep them alive by talking about them a lot and remind my kids how very much their Memaw and Bone loved them.
Skerrib, Thank you. I feel like lately I’ve worked out a lot of angst on my blog, but I’m glad it doesn’t remain too heavy or dreary.
Kathy, Thank you. Yeah, there are definitely waves, and it has really hit me hard this week–not sure why. I know that Jesus is holding me and loving me, and I have felt His presence in such a real and deep way. Such a paradox–the sadness is so deep, but the joy and comfort and peace is soooo good.
March 13th, 2008 at 11:20 pm
For me, losing Dean was the culmination of all of the other losses (our fathers, Mrs. Hazel). We couldn’t even catch our breath as we went from one deathbed to another. I can’t go to the cemetery and visit my dad’s grave without looking over at Dean’s and vice versa. Right now,everything that I see or hear reminds me of someone and then reminds me that their place (at my table, in my home, etc.) is empty. I stop and remind myself that my time here on the earth will probably be much shorter than I can imagine - and that I’m the one still suffering - suffering the loss of their presence in my life. It’s been a rough week for me, too. I know that I’m lousy company - so I try to spare people the discomfort of being around me. I miss Dean’s great sense of humor, I miss Glenn’s dad’s quirkiness, I miss my dad answering the phone and telling me that he loves me before he passes the phone to my mother.
I think I’ll miss all of these things until I see the three of them in person again.
March 14th, 2008 at 8:15 am
Oh Jan, I thought of you and Glenn when I wrote this. That many losses within a few weeks of each other is overwhelming. It’s one thing to adjust to one loss at a time, but to work through all three at once must be so very hard.
March 14th, 2008 at 11:59 am
hey chewy,
that was beautifully written and expressed. i’m sorry it is a season of grief.
and you are such a fun blogger, doesn’t at all seem like all suffering.
have a ball on the cruiso!
March 23rd, 2008 at 2:43 pm
What an excellent post. Thank you. It was very helpful.