Perspective Through Sorrow
Good Lord but life puts things into perspective for you. And you certainly don't need to look far....
Yesterday I read another moving post by a friend of mine who is losing her house to foreclosure. O.k., I suppose she's not really a friend but she is a facebook friend, the wife of an old friend of ours--himself someone we didn't really know THAT well but felt attached to....do you know what I mean? Since becoming friends on facebook I have become a fan of her writing and know her through that intimacy--which is powerful as her writing is so very, very intimate. So these friends, who are distant in some ways, but not in others, are struggling with the loss of a beloved home, the loss of income that preceded that and all the reasons for these things. And I am so moved and sad. I look around my rickety little house that is messy and crowded and think how lucky I am. You know....there but for....
Then this morning I had an email from one of my most dearly beloved friends. She just lost her unborn child. A miscarriage....I didn't even know she was pregnant. She said I'd been on her mind and she was ready to send a happy pregnancy announcement to me. The words she wrote to me were so incredibly moving. And I love these people so...the two of them separately and together and their two boys and the family they make which reminds me in many ways of us. She wrote "In my writing I use the language of the body of Christ because it is central to my faith, but I do not mean to impose it on you. It was simply the only shape I could give this experience." And as I read her words I am once again moved by someone's faith. This faith that I don't really understand but respect so deeply. There must be a better word...a mixture of respect and envy and love...I just can't capture it. She wrote:
On this past Monday, August 27—the same day that we saw ourchild alive and seemingly healthy on an ultrasound—I received a generic massemail, based on my due date, simply titled, “Your pregnancy now: 13 weeks.” Thefirst line read: “Fingerprints have now formed on your baby’s tiny fingertips.”On Thursday morning, I held his hand on my own fingertip. We could see thatevery miniscule bone and joint was present, and we reveled in the completenessof his long fingers down to his unbelievably small, but beautiful, fingernails.I contemplate the verse, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gaina heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90: 12 NIV). I thank God that this child’s daysreached a number that allowed us to see so clearly how fearfully andwonderfully he was made.
And I was struck by the way in which that love is itself embodied.It moved through the arms of my husband who so literally held me up when Icould not stand myself. It allowed me to embrace my sons, andcomfort them as they cried, indeed wept, for the life they had hoped andplanned to live with this little brother.
It came through the voices and words of our family andfriends as we received calls and messages while we made our way through a verylong, hard day at the hospital. It came earlier through our Pastor as hearrived at our home within minutes of our call, with a prayer, “Lord, have mercy,”and watched our children as we left for the emergency room. It came througheveryone who loved and cared for our boys that day before they even knewwhat had happened. It has come through pained smiles and big hugs. It has comethrough meals that provide needed sustenance. It has come through those whohave sat and listened to me tell my story, most likely in too much detail, as Itried to make sense of it all. It has most certainly come through the handsthat have prayed for us. It has even come through the certain, trustworthy loveof friends and family who did not know that we were expecting a child. Some ofyou may think that you have done nothing; but joined together it makes nothingless than the body of Christ.
Powerful words. Powerful pain and powerful comfort.
I send my love to all of you, my friends losing their home, my friends that lost a child and to the rest of you that are dealing with sorrows.
All my love and my sorrow, my sorrow that it is YOUR sorrows enabling me see my life more clearly.
Perspective. Always there.