And grief washes in and colors everything blue, and you don’t see it coming until it’s already here. There is no warning, just hot salty water on your face. The sobs are deep and even though he wasn’t my dad, he was a little bit.
We have so many layers of person on us. We cry for obvious things, but usually it’s the not so obvious that we need to pay attention to. Like today how I cried when I read this post by Donald Miller. And it’s just a really short post from a few weeks ago about why he’ll be out of the office for a while. But it slayed me. And I don’t even know if that’s a word, but that’s what it did.
It did something else besides reach down deep and shake me up – it reminded me of joy. Joy comes the same way as grief sometimes. She shows up without calling first, but who would mind? She stands there holding her bright pink skirts with two fistfuls of fabric, smile wide across her lovely face. And she looks me in the eye and reminds me of all the gifts, pointing them out one by one. To live fully is to stand in a room with Joy and Grief and hold them each by the hand, giving them freedom to be themselves. Don’t try to boss them. They won’t listen anyway.
hello emily,
yes, “slayed” is a word.
every time i hear it i think of job. and of the sovereign plan behind the suffering. as in:
“Though He slay me, I will hope in Him.” -Job 13:15
those nine words resound across the millenia and ring in my ears.
praying you can grip that hand of joy,
sarah
i love that you personified joy. and that you are allowing her in. continuing to pray for your family.
I like that joy wear Pink. Your pictures of beautiful.
“To live fully is to stand in a room with Joy and Grief and hold them each by the hand, giving them freedom to be themselves. Don’t try to boss them. They won’t listen anyway.”
Beautiful!
Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.
~Katharina Von Schlegel
The thought of being free from disappointment, grief, fear and sorry and restored to loves purest joys is what slays me. Beautiful.
http://thebrokenbohemian.wordpress.com/2011/02/28/be-still-my-soul/
I mean sorrow, not sorry! (must finish my cup of coffee before commenting)
Yeah – I get so happy when you post! Thanks so much for sharing with us. Whose book is out soooonnnnnnn? Can’t wait to read it!
You paint such beautiful, real pictures with your heart words Emily. We are so often surprised by grief and joy.
Praying His peace and joyful presence will fill your heart and that His great arms will enfold you in His grace.
To take them both by the hand – joy and grief – and give them the freedom to be themselves. Oh Emily, you are so right, that is the place of living fully. Beautiful words today, friend. Praying for you as you grieve.
No. You’re right. They won’t listen.
One of my most joyful times and most grief stricken were at my mothers funeral. Hard to describe and even harder to understand. But God is an awesome and incomprehensible provider of grace when we need it most.
I left a comment and a link on your “Life” post and it says it is awaiting moderation. Maybe it landed in your spam folder.
What a gift you have for writing! The reality of aging may soon bring grief to our home and your blog was the first place I turned to for comfort. Thank you for what you share with your readers .. expected or unexpected grief is a path best shared.
I’m sorry for your loss, Emily. Thank you as always for sharing your beautiful words.
Dear One…I understand. I can be on the phone because my cell is acting up & start sobbing, those big ugly nasty chest-grabbing things that come from somewhere around my navel & move up, racking my whole body. I try to apologize to the agent and they are kind. I tell them I will call back when I get myself under control. Then the pittie that made Daddy giggle for days when he was so terrified for Momma in the hospital&saved his life cocks her head and desperately tries to keep up with slurping the tears off my face,and I get the giggles like he did…till I am in the floor loving my grrrls that he so adored,laughing at their silliness. Take a deeep breath. He is in my heart and I will be ok. Till next time. In the store. In the truck & have to pull off because I cant see or steer safely. At the puter typing answers to the outline for the freelancer that’s on deadline but saw his obit & wanted to spotlight such an amazing man. And I cant see to type. Emily, know you are in my heart,too. Love to all of you-s-
Oh, girl. You speak to the very core of where I’m at today. After a week of my oldest being away at camp, I couldn’t get to her fast enough and hold her close. After 3 minutes, I remembered why I didn’t miss her until 4 days after she left. That lovely bipolar and the struggle it means for our family. “To live fully is to stand in a room with Joy and Grief and hold them each by the hand, giving them freedom to be themselves. Don’t try to boss them. They won’t listen anyway.” So. Very. True. Love how you say what my ehart can barely manage to feel sometimes.
And, it was a huge joy to meet and get to give you a hug at She Speaks! Blessings to you, girl.
It seems strange to me that joy and grief can exist in the same space. I love your words here today!
Oh, I too am living out this contrast of joy and grief.
This summer has had lots of ups and downs for our family…the “ups” of our third child’s graduation from homeschool, a visit from our son who lives many miles away, weddings of family friends, new babies in our extended family…and the “downs” of my own father-in-law’s suffering and then his passing, and the crushing news of a close friend’s husband being diagnosed with terminal cancer that is moving fast. Rejoicing and weeping. Several weeks ago, I blogged about this reality, this rejoicing and weeping, on the morning of the day that my father-in-law passed away, not knowing that he would meet his Creator by nightfall.
I pray that your family will continue to find comfort in the Shadow of His Wings.
Oh, darling girl, I am so sorry about John’s dad. Isn’t it weird how sorrow and joy are all mixed together? They don’t just stand in the same room; they somehow stand in the same spot and you have to hold both their hands with just one of yours, because your other hand is needed for something else. No wonder a girl can lose her balance and fall down sometimes. May you always have a soft place to land and someone to help you back to your feet, sweet friend.
I love you.
P.S. Are you sure her skirts are pink? I don’t think she wears pink at my house.
Oh, absolutely beautiful description of joy and grief. I’m so sorry for your loss.
That is so true about Grief and Joy; without the lows, we couldn’t appreciate the highs!
“To live fully is to stand in a room with Joy and Grief and hold them each by the hand, giving them freedom to be themselves. Don’t try to boss them. They won’t listen anyway.” This is just beautiful. True enough, we must embrace both the ups and downs of life because that whats life is: both happy and sad. Your sharing is very inspiring! Keep it up and continue to touch more lives.
love donald miller…will head over and read the post that he wrote.
comforting to be able to trust God’s sovereign plan in the midst of unspeakable grief.
I know it, Emily, I know it. And nearly one year later after losing her, who wasn’t my mother (but she was a little bit), the grief still washes in from time to time. I’ve learned a little better to flow with it, rather than fight against it. But more and more, there is joy in remembering her and what a tremendous impact she had on our lives.
Praying for you, dear.
Love this. Love the fistfuls of skirts. Love Donald Miller. Love you. Love your writing series. Love it all.
Hi girl,
Getting caught up here. I wish I could read the writing posts, but my brain isn’t there so I kept scrolling back and settled here, and then cried…again. We are grieving right now too, and it’s breaking me. My cousin was one of the SEALS killed on Saturday and I cannot escape the torture of sadness. Im sorry you guys are there too…
Love,
Amy
hugs to you for Grief,
and hugs to you for Joy.
love the way you think and the way you write and all the colors of the bicycle.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Joy and Grief in one room, holding hands. I am deeply moved by this picture; it’s something I constantly try to explain to my girls, how grief and joy are not meant to be mutually exclusive. Thank you for this!
I hope you will still receive this belated comment! I gave the last line of this blog post to my sister last month. She was moving across the country and found herself in the midst of the joy/grief paradigm, and I knew she couldn’t see that our tender Father understood that and that it mattered. The Lord gave me a vision of the quote and I got out the ole crayolas and drew her a picture as if we were kids again. I pictured her leaving a dark, stormy period and crossing a bridge to a period of joy. At this junction, she was “allowed” to embrace joy and grief simultaneously. God really used it speak to her. And she has not been hearing from him in forever. Her new period of joy has proven to be miraculous in ways that I don’t want to put on a public blog! It’s freaking awesome!!!
Oh, and my bff lives in Charlotte, and I was supposed to visit her last weekend and attend your party. But alas, I’ve been home bound with illness for a few months and we had to cancel plans. I was SO disappointed. Thank you for posting details about it! I hope it’s been a joy-filled time for you. : ) Many blessings, and thanks for putting yourself out there.