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7-year anniversary of homecoming

November 16, 2021

It’s hard to believe that seven years have passed since my handsome firstborn son was called home to heaven…and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Time does not necessarily heal, but rather is teaching me how to live.

I have heard the loss of a child compared to an amputation and I believe that to be the most accurate analogy. The loss itself is a significant trauma. With proper care and the passage of time the wound can heal but that is only part of the work to be done. One must then learn how to walk, usually with the aid of a prosthetic device. With practice, this device can allow some normalcy. At times, though, the device becomes uncomfortable, requiring one to sit and rest. There are also times when one experiences ghost pain, which is the perception of pain in the missing limb. This pain can vary from a dull ache to excruciating agony, which is most successfully treated not with medication but self-care.

This bears much similarity to my journey over the past seven years. I have learned to live again, but there are times I am overwhelmed with pain and fatigue. I think my journey must look like the footprints passage – there are often only one set of footprints reflecting the times God is carrying me. (Note: I believe there are also a few long grooves where He has had to drag me!). Along my journey I have struggled to understand joy and sorrow. They may seem to be the strangest of companions, yet they are actually two sides of the same coin. One is never too far from the other, and I’m learning to embrace them both. My musings led me to stumble across this poem, written by Kahlil Gibran, a fellow American of Lebanese descent. Please enjoy, and remember that whatever journey you are on, you are not alone.

Isaiah 41:10 Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand

Be blessed and be a blessing.


On Joy and Sorrow
Kahlil Gibran - 1883-1931

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

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