Monday, December 14, 2015

Grief Gratitude

The journal entry below is from June 19th, 2014.  Pretty incredible, how I was able to peer into the future and find strength in the known unknown of pain and loss.  I hold gratitude for the comfort and wisdom I generated for myself (with God's help and insight) on that June day, and feel especially thankful to have it to look back on now as I grieve my father.  Although I am still very much on this grief journey and learning more about it day by day, I read the following line-- "maybe I can be sure pain is coming, but I can't be sure that it will destroy me"-- and know that while I have been changed, I have not been destroyed.  I'm so glad my younger self considered that possibility, and so grateful to be realizing the full scope of my resilience.

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It's really hard to be carefree when there are so many scary threats looming over you.  It's hard to be content and happy about little things in your life when you feel like they're trivial and you feel like you should always be in a solemn state of mind because there are so many things in the world to be taken seriously.  I have always felt guilty for being happy because a part of me has been lead to believe you're not supposed to be happy. If you allow yourself to be happy, something bad will happen. Bad things are happening all the time, if not to you, to other people.  There is no good reason to be happy.

But I doubt that line of thinking is what God had planned for me, or anyone else. I don't think He put us on this planet just to subscribe to that mentality.  It's difficult to have faith but in the end I have to believe that having faith is worth the trouble. Faith is the brave choice. And we can be terrified as we choose it, but it's still the brave choice.  We can choose it in the midst of swirling pain, utter confusion, and in the face of crippling odds.  We can choose it when we're weak, flawed, selfish, or numb. We can choose it any minute of any day. There is nothing we need to do first.

I was thinking the other day about things that are inevitable, specifically pain that is inevitable, like loss of loved ones or familiar things changing.  I was thinking my usual thought: that I should be sad now because that pain is a guarantee, a known unknown. That there is no reason to be happy now knowing that pain is sitting there smack dab in the middle of my future.  But like a tiny light in a tunnel, I had a new thought: maybe I can be sure pain is coming, but I can't be sure that it will destroy me.  I may imagine my future pain will eviscerate me and leave me a shadow of my former self, but that part is not a guarantee. It's a possibility, and a scary one. But there is also the possibility that I will experience pain in an altogether different way.  It may change me, but not necessarily for the worse.  I may experience change and loss and pain in a way that strengthens me, strengthens my relationships with other people and with God.  If we let them, don't all of our experiences serve to make us more of who we really are at our core? And I believe that who I am at my core is someone good, someone sensitive, someone faithful.  I am someone who always tries to see the good. I could have given up on that endeavor a long time ago, but I haven't. Even at my angriest and most bitter, I look for good. I am on a continuous search to see things from other people's point of view while honoring my own point of view.

It's completely pointless and unhelpful to try to figure out God's plan-- we can never know in this life.  I do think it might be helpful to be honest with God though, honest in our frustration when we don't understand. God created us to be vulnerable-- I don't know why. But we are vulnerable, and that's scary. Sometimes faith will take away our fears, and sometimes faith will have to coexist with our fears. You can be afraid and still have faith.  You can be angry and still be loving. You can be confused and still hold onto your fundamental beliefs. You can be sad and still be grateful.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Advent Songs ~ Marty Haugen

I'm very happy that Galo and I took time out this evening and yesterday evening to light the Advent wreath, listen to an Advent song from Marty Haugen's Night of Silence CD and read from the little blue book from St Joseph's (and recite the Our Father in Spanish to Nina!).  Yesterday I played "Each winter as the Year Grows Older" and tonight we listened to "Creator of the Stars of Night." The lyrics in Each Winter are pretty spot on for us this Advent.

Each Winter as the Year Grows Older

Each winter as the year grows older,
We each grow older too.
The chill sets in a little colder;
The verities we knew
Seem shaken and untrue.

When race and class cry out for treason,
When sirens call for war,
They overshout the voice of reason
And scream til we ignore
All we held dear before.

But I believe beyond believing,
That life can spring from death:
That growth can flower from our grieving;
That we can catch our breath
And turn transfixed by faith.

So even as the sun is turning
To journey to the north,
The living flame, in secret burning,
Can kindle on the earth
And bring God's love to birth.

O Child of ecstasy and sorrows,
O Prince of peace and pain,
Brighten today's world by tomorrows,
Renew our lives again;
Lord Jesus, come and reign!

Creator of the Stars of Night

Creator of the stars of night
Who shaped the sky's eternal lights
Oh Christ, Redeemer of us all
Bend near and hear us when we call

Oh Love that wore our human form
Oh tiny Child of lowly birth
Let now Your love be born in us
Til peace and justice fill the Earth

Give us a love that never dies
A vision of the world to come
When all oppression finally ends
And all the homeless find a home

When children teach the strong and proud
When all the hungry have their fill
When rich no longer use the poor
When guns and bombs no longer kill

Oh God who brought all life to birth
Oh Christ who wore love's human face
Oh Spirit making life anew
Grant us Your wisdom, love and grace