Joy in Mourning

Few of us are morning people. You know the type. Awake before the alarm goes off. Never sleep in on the weekends. The first thought upon rising is “What can I accomplish today?”. For these folks, they find joy in the morning – a new day in which to do great things.

I am not one of these people.

At least not most of the time. I have shared with you earlier that I enjoy fishing trips to Canada. The sun rises early and sets late up north. Although I rarely wake without an alarm at home, I found myself over the last few trips waking almost every morning. I couldn’t seem to help it. Maybe I was subconsciously excited to get out on the water and start fishing. Maybe I wanted to soak up every moment so I could maximize my enjoyment of the vacation. Whatever the reason, waking early allowed me to witness some incredible sunrises. You see, the front porch of the cabins within the fishing camp face due east. The sun rose each morning to reveal the most spectacular colors of pink, orange and violet, with speckles glimmering over the slight waves on the water. Such splendor allowed me to easily find joy in the morning.

This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 (KJV)

This passage all but commands us (“we will“) to rejoice no matter the circumstance. Put into my own words, the Psalmist tell us that God gave us this moment and we have no other viable option but to find joy in it. We can typically find joy in a beautiful morning sunrise, or when the day just seems to go right in every way. But what of tragedy? What of the loss of a child and the sorrow that accompanies it? How is it possible to rejoice at such a thing? How do I find joy in the mourning? The short answer is in Paul’s letter to the Philippians: don’t focus on the loss but on the good from it.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:4, 8

Understanding that there is a plan afoot that surpasses my knowledge or ability to grasp its meaning sure helps – admittedly in some moments more than others. For instance, several needy families now have the ability to attend a Christian day school as the result of generous memorials given for tuition assistance in Jacob’s honor. Some of you have confided to me that our experience, and perhaps even this blog, has helped provide comfort and a way to cope with your own grief. In addition, we were able to build close relationships with the wonderful nurses at the NICU.

We were also able to learn how to accept gifts and love from others. We thoroughly enjoy volunteering and giving of our time. The rewards are endless when we do. And so it was a difficult thing to be the ones in need and to have others volunteer their time, efforts and gifts for us. In fact, it often felt awkward. The outpouring of love from our friends and family was like nothing we had experienced before. We will never forget the meals and snacks, or the cards we opened during the quiet moments. The fact that we were in the midst of a trial and enduring that suffering placed us in a position to better appreciate such tangible and intangible gifts. We were able to find the joy there, even in all of that.

Today, we continue to grieve. That grief has taken different shapes over the last four months; and it dips and dives, rises and peaks, seemingly all on its own. Just about the time I think it gets easier, some trigger brings up the emotions again. Finding joy in the process of grieving seems impossible. But, we know that there is so much more than our own perception of this process. There is more to explore, so to speak. Interestingly, as we learn that this grief provides an avenue for exploration we indeed sense that change is coming. Sure, our lives have been changed forever as a result of Jacob. But there’s more to it than that. The sense of change is real, and compelling. It’s … unsettling.  Despite the discomfort that feeling brings, we thank God for it because the alternative of sitting around, moping and feeling sorry for ourselves just won’t do.

And so the effort to find the joy in this will include determining God’s will for us going forward. He is at work through this process – we can feel it. For now, we must be content with the notion that we can’t go back – not to the way we were. This unsettled feeling proves that more is to come. Stay tuned as we explore just what that might be. And in the meantime, I challenge you to think of at least one thing in which you find joy – beginning tomorrow morning.