I just woke up early in my daughter’s home. There are no sounds of our freshly born granddaughter, Parker, or her mother or father. I hope they are all sleeping. Dan is deep in the twitching dreams of REM. It is the quiet time of memory. Parker is safe, sound, and already greatly loved. Today is her one-week old birthday. It is a blessed and sweet time. I have to ask: Why do I feel weighed down?
Like the darting light and shadow that comes from passing cars on a busy Seattle street, my memory returns to the joys of holding my infants, to miscarriages, to years of barrenness, to the recent loss of a baby of one of our dear friends. Early morning is often the battleground of life and death. Joy and sorrow usually prompt me to rise quickly and make coffee. But this morning, I needed to remain quiet because I can’t escape the turmoil of joy.
It’s February and that time of year where hitting lows and feeling overwhelmed rises up. The flurry and exhaustion of Thanksgiving, Christmas madness and New Year’s beginnings intensifies angst and I long for a day to be alone in our home and escape into a nine hundred-page novel. That is not happening. And frankly, I cannot foresee when that might take place. How was it that Jesus was able to escape, because I cannot?
I blame myself for not being able to get away from it all. I compare myself to others who go on retreats or sabbaticals. I have done that and found myself more out of sorts and tired than if I had stayed home. Why can’t I just revel in the February dreariness and be at peace? Am I doomed to sabotage my joy? I sentence myself to comparisons and feel like everyone else lives in joy well and lives with joy when joy abounds. I feel like Eeyore. I am in a wilderness of my own making and joy is falling off my body like the rain on the window.
A little later in the morning conversation with my husband changed the trajectory of this battle. He said he fears joy more than sorrow. He was adamant that sorrow is not preferable, nor without dread, only that joy intensifies the awareness of other losses and increases our desire for what is to come. Joy boosts our sensitivity to life and death. But heartache, more often than not, dulls our senses and limits our vision of what is yet to come.
Joy makes us outliers and wanderers that suffer a different kind of sorrow.
We who confess to believe in Jesus know that what awaits us after death is more beautiful and unimaginable than we can comprehend. But we are not there yet. We are here where our loved ones are suicidal and friends are dying of cancer. Social media allows me to read of our friend’s son’s baby who was born three months early. The pending multiple surgeries their baby faces is terrifying and will require more hope and skilled care than they can bear.
I just left my bed to rescue a tired mother and brought Parker to sleep next to me. She is one of the most perfect human beings on earth. Her eyes flutter and her breathing is as rhythmic as any symphony I have ever heard. There is no physical beauty, be it a sunrise, or a one thousand foot waterfall, or a rising humpback whale that is more compelling. Beauty and wonder exists in all of creation, but this one being has captured me.
My son-in-law told me about sociologists who study joy and what the research shows is that the anticipation of a trip is actually better than the trip itself. Joy is not as simple and certainly not as lasting as we demand. Joy triggers the hunger for “the more” we were made to enjoy.
As I write, I can smell the Sunday morning pancakes that Dan is making for our granddaughter, Grace. I am learning that I don’t always have to help in the kitchen. I can wait to be served and suffer the joy of watching my granddaughter breathe. Life is a seesaw-balancing act and I choose the joy that is here and await the joy that is to come and all that dances in-between.
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of 42 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living!
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Dear Becky,
You have penned great beauty with your sweet vulnerable words. I read again and again, breathing in awe and wonder. Longing for joy, I am afraid. And, I know it is mine to embrace. Because of grace, I can receive what I fear.
Thank you,
Marie
Marie, Thank you. Your words are deep and good.
Becky, I love reading your pieces. I feel like we are sisters separated at birth. I, too, long for joy – a lasting joy or even a more frequent joy. At Christmas time, and even when it is not Christmas, I have “Joy” words hanging or setting around my home. JOY is my heart’s greatest longing. It is like reaching for and hanging onto an early morning mist that hangs over the hayfield. It is there, and then it is gone. And it is visible to be grasped, but not really. Elusive.
Your new little grand baby sounds perfect and incredibly blessed to be so loved by so many. Enjoy every moment you can with her/them. I find that my greatest moments of joy seem to come from my time with my grandchildren. The little girl in me comes out to play, to observe, to wonder, to relive what was or wasn’t in my own life. A blessing indeed. Perhaps as close to real joy as I will find on this earth. Blessings to you and yours, dear Becky.
Barbara, you encourage me with your replies. Thank you for your faithfulness. Oh, I have a joy framed piece that stays up all year. Sometimes it is quite easy to “Choose Joy” and other times I must switch to a chorus of “gratitudes” to muscle up Joy. Blessings to you too, Barbara.
“The anticipation is actually better than the ???? itself” – one of our pastors told me this one time, and it has stuck with me. He said people often get all the gratification they need by the mere thought of doing something, so they never do anything – like show appreciation, write a thank you note, return a favor. I always thought that was a sad way to live. “It is more blessed to give than receive,” but I do enjoy receiving joy.
Thank you for sharing.
Bess…yes…joy is the best! Thank you for your reply.
Dear sweet Becky,
Your words are so recognizable as they so often resonate in my heart,, as if we were cut from the same cloth. I loved your: ” Joy triggers the hunger for “the more” we were made to enjoy.” In the end I agree that “the more” we search for will be found in that day. Congratulations on yet another grandchild. May God bless you and free you to enter into every bit of joy He so lavishly wants to pour out on you. He loves you so much and loves the way you skillfully bless and free others to see your life through His eyes. Love you, dear sweet old friend! Laura
Laura, it’s always so wonderful to receive your replies. God has been so good to keep us connected after all these years. And, to encourage one another to not lose heart!
The phrase ‘suffer joy’ resonates with me. To feel the deep pangs of loveliness and beauty but to know it is likely only a moment. To hold that that is completely exquisitely true even as is excruciatingly fades. Maybe that’s a way we are invited back to be like children? My boys aren’t suffering as they run with abandon through the woods. They aren’t waiting for the lightning to crash. I suffer the glory of the moment. (And wonder if their ‘swords’ will poke someone’s eye out..) I don’t know how to just do joy like they do but it’s worth a good ponder. And since I’m thinking out loud, I wonder if it has to do with attachment? Their knowledge of separation is very limited. They don’t have a lot of experience with marring so they don’t fear it?
“To feel the deep pangs of loveliness and beauty but to know it is likely only a moment. To hold that that is completely exquisitely true even as is excruciatingly fades.” I love how you worded this. Yes. Yes. That is an amazing thought about attachment and how it plays out with joy and all emotions. I think, without knowing why for sure, I would say yes to that!
Becky, I think of you as someone who embodies joy in unmistakable ways, so is a gift to me to hear you wrestle out loud with your own war unto the joy that you carry. Sometimes that war is hard for me to engage, so this was deeply inspiring. Such a beautiful piece of writing. I love love love the picture of you remaining with Parker, studying her, as breakfast was made by someone else.
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Jan, thank you. Thank you. Truly we both wrestle with joy and I am touched by your very kind words. And….letting someone else work in the kitchen!!!! Right!!!
Thank you for this thought provoking writing, Becky. I recently penned a song, “Let It Overflow”, which expresses the season of joy I am experiencing at this time. After a very long journey of wandering in the desert of my soul, I am drinking this season of joy in with everything I have, knowing full well that this is just a momentary pause; one not to be taken for granted. I know deep within my soul this path I walk is paved with ups and downs. Joy ebbs and flows; we “dance in-between” the raindrops of this journey called life.
My heart resonates with your writing, Becky. I appreciate your gift as a word smith. You have spurred the writer in me to journal my thoughts on the concept of “dancing in-between”. Thank you! Perhaps I will submit the writing to Red Tent Living for consideration of one of your blogs?
Thank you for boosting the hope that resides in me…. in every soul. That longing for a better world will never be fulfilled, this side of heaven. But OH, the joy we will revel in, when we finally see the heavens break forth to usher in the perfect world; the world of ALL worlds that will at last quench our thirst for eternal bliss! Have a pleasant day!
Carol Sanchez
Carol, wow! You ARE a writer. I especially loved this: “Thank you for boosting the hope that resides in me…. in every soul. That longing for a better world will never be fulfilled, this side of heaven. But OH, the joy we will revel in, when we finally see the heavens break forth to usher in the perfect world; the world of ALL worlds that will at last quench our thirst for eternal bliss! Have a pleasant day!” Please submit something that you love to Red Tent Living Submissions!!! I would love to read some of your writing.
I an reading your words as I travel to the airport after 10 glorious days of caring for my four year old amazing grandson in snowy Colorado. My joy is mixed with sadness because a dear friend entered Hospice yesterday . He is in the home stretch and my husband is with him and his wife back East. Your story touched me deeply. Thank you for writing about these intertwined feelings.
Oh Flora! Yes…so you totally get it. I am sad for your dear friend. We, as humans, are called to hold so much. Thank you for your reply.
Becky, I am with you on so much of this, how hard it is to “suffer joy”. This line especially caught me: “I am learning that I don’t always have to help in the kitchen. I can wait to be served and suffer the joy of watching my granddaughter breathe.” Something as simple as waiting to be served in the space where we are usually serving, and what that provokes. Oh my. I just experienced this last week when Chris offered to cook dinner for my birthday celebration. It was so hard to sit and feel the joy of watching him work with our son and daughter-in-law…for me.
I love how you are fully present in savoring time with all your sweet grandchildren. What a gift for you and them both! Sending love to you.
Thank you Janet! Oh, how I miss conversations with you. I am cheering you on from afar with your studies. Love and hugs and thank you for your reply. Learning new ways …. is challenging…but so good for everyone.