This past week I had a couple of days with some grandkids. Cosie is six, and while I was reclined on our lawn chair under this gigantic weeping willow tree, she came and snuggled right up to me, looking up as I was. We marveled at the varying shades of green, the birds zipping from one spot to another, and the quiet beauty and majesty. Then we started talking about the wind. It wasn't crazy windy, but we were comfortable because of the breeze and it was mesmerizing to watch the flowing branches and leaves. We shared a few sacred moments as we talked about only seeing evidence of the wind, but not the wind itself, and how that is true with so many other things, including love and God. Cosie and I had lots of good talks over those few days.
Side note: This morning, Boone was the first one awake after me. The first thing he wanted to do was climb up on my bed and "just talk, Grandma." *precious*
I might have written, last year, about a young friend of mine who died in an accident. She was a young mother of just one precious baby girl. I was out of town and unable to attend her funeral. She and her husband had moved away from Idaho a couple of months previous to the accident. Through the past several months I've thought about her numerous times and prayed for her husband and daughter. Anyway, I saw her husband at church today - he was visiting from back east. My mind immediately went to a scripture verse that has been front and center in my heart since my mother passed away. Romans 8:18 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
There are some really, really hard things in life; things that cause intense sufferings, sometimes incomprehensible sufferings. My guess is that everyone who lives on this earth suffers deeply at times.
And yet, we are created to have joy! Yes, struggling through mortality can cause really beautiful progression, resulting in becoming our very best, most amazing selves. But through it all: joy is available! In fact, it's being showered upon us, if we will only close our umbrellas and receive it.
Both are true: Life is full of pain and suffering AND life is full of joy and happiness.
I believe Jesus - He told us that He is the way, the Truth and the Life (John 14:16). I also realize that there are amazing sources outside of the scriptures to guide us to both joy AND enduring suffering well. I love finding support by philosophers and other wise people who state Jesus' words in other ways, helping me to absorb truth, which then helps me progress more toward becoming my best self. I recently finished reading Michael Singer's books wherein he coaches the reader to dive deep into our souls and step away from what isn't really us (how we look, our experiences, other people, etc) so we can better respond to whatever is going on in life, thereby being joyful while progressing. I'm also listening to Ryan Bush's "Designing the Mind" and recently finished "A Guide to the Good Life" by William Irvine. Lots of good stuff - even though I don't agree with everything they write.
My point: The Truth includes contraries. I think that if we all, every single person in this world, accepted this, there would be less contention and more coming together between people - allowing opposites to be true in most areas of life.
Last thing. Back to my young friend ... She was the age of my youngest daughter. Everyone who knew her loved her - she was one of those people who was just a magnet to everyone; so full of light, life, happiness, acceptance. The whole package of goodness. So, I doubt I was anything special to her, but she was certainly special to me. I missed the opportunity to really say good-bye; I didn't attend the viewing or funeral; her husband had already gone back east by the time I got back into town. There has been an emptiness for me, and although it hasn't been consumptive, it's existed. Today, when her husband and little girl were sitting in the pew ahead of us, I ached for something ... I didn't really know what. Half-way through Sunday School, he walked in with his little one toddling behind. They sat near me. I interacted (as appropriately as possible in Sunday School) with the little one. She came to me and played with my bracelets, then took my hands in hers and had me clap. Lots of smiles, a little giggling (her, not me) and some warm hand-holding. As I sat there, I felt like Terrica was urging her daughter on - encouraging her to gift me with some Terrica love. I said good-bye.
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