(Ryan and Laura sitting by Juliette’s grave)
Father’s Day. Out of town for the weekend. Late to church.
Of course, our seats were in the front.
As we slid into place, the Assistant Pastor was calling out the names of young fathers whose wives had delivered babies this year.
One by one, the fathers came forward; big smiles; gratefully accepting their gift: a pound of yummy-flavored coffee.
When the Pastor was finished reading through his list of names, he had one more bag left.
“One bag left! Any other fathers out there whose wives delivered a baby or are expecting a baby this year?”
Ryan and I pressed into each other for support and sat, silently. We knew we just couldn’t jump up and down, waving our arms for a pound of coffee. This was a celebration of receiving children. We couldn’t bear to blanket it with our loss. But in our hearts, we cried out, “We did! We delivered a baby this year! Her name is Juliette and she is beautiful and perfect and sweet… We did…”
And there it was: in the midst of an otherwise sunny, coffee-filled Sunday: Sorrow.
Nor did my sister and her husband jump up and down, waving their arms for a pound of coffee, though they had every reason to. For, at the same time that the Lord received Juliette, He began crafting their baby. Joy!
We all just sat in silence.
Because, suddenly, what’s a pound of coffee??
When sorrow and joy mingle, their dance silences the room; their bitter-sweet union is beyond human understanding.
So, all we can do is gasp for breath under the weight of their entwined hands.
And then, if we can muster up the energy, we grasp each other’s hands, weep if we must, laugh if we may, and wonder.
***
Joy in affliction is rooted in the hope of resurrection, but our experience of suffering also deepens the root of that hope.
- John Piper
8 Comments to "The Mingling of Sorrow and Joy"
I have never ached for someone’s sorrow so much. Praying……
Loss creates a hole deep inside. Praying you feel him in that place where question marks and silence reside.
What a hard mix of emotions. Praying the Lord will guide you through this emotional time…
I know how you feel in July of 2007 my husband and I had a little boy who never even took his first breath. The months following were the hardest it seemed, but with many prayers in June of 2008 we delivered our son after a very difficult and worrisome pregnancy. He just had his second birthday and we couldnt be more joyful that he is here and that he is thriving. I do still have times of sorrow especially when July 3 comes around because his older brother cant be here with us even though I know that there was a reason even though I dont understand it but I know that he is ok and will be taken care of and I will see him when my time comes.
Thank you for sharing this moment with all of us. When one member of the body suffers, all of us suffer in some way. We are sorrowing with you and remembering you before our Father.
Much love to your family from ours.
thank you, thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing. I read your posts about your daughter and listened to the song you posted, and I went in my room, closed my door and sobbed deep sobs of sorrow for my three miscarriages, the last one two months ago and I have not really grieved it. I have two adopted children now (and still a huge hole longing for more) but I remember the ache of mother’s day at church, or people sharing birthing stories, or people saying, “I remember when my baby first smiled.” (My children were 4 and 5 when I brought them home; I have never been able to hold my own infant child). Thank you for your transparency. Feeling your pain and being reminded of mine, being able to grieve, is a good thing. May God bless you with joy.
It is still fresh…the bitter sweetness of it all…
I still feel that lump…and the wonder of what it will be like one day to see her…joy!