“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The Christmas season was beginning, and my heart was torn. The first real Christmas without my son Matthew would also be the first for my six-month old daughter Missy. Part of me wanted to hide from the happiness of decorations, lights and music. Another part of me wanted my baby’s first Christmas to be perfect, free from the sorrow that had hung over our home for the past year. I wondered how I could grieve for my son and celebrate for my daughter at the same time?
My husband and I agreed that we wanted Missy’s first Christmas to be a happy one. Through our sorrow, we forced ourselves to buy a tree and shop for gifts. I noticed that a little joy began to sneak in here and there as the pieces of our new normal began to fall into place.
That Christmas was the first of many times for me to experience joy alongside sorrow. Those emotions collided again two years later when my daughter Valerie was born. I was both overjoyed at the birth of my beautiful daughter while broken-hearted that she would never know her brother. I was both thrilled to see Missy’s reaction to her baby sister and sad when I could only imagine how proud their big brother would have been.
https://reflectionsonbitsofglass.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-neighbors-words.html
He answered my prayer by teaching me to acknowledge both emotions. It is possible for them to coexist.
In more than twenty years since the death of my son, the balance of joy and sorrow has shifted. In the beginning the sorrow was sharper and more prevalent. Now, though I still feel the absence of my son every day, happy memories outweigh the sorrow. God has allowed the joy to take the lead in my day-to-day life.
I am thankful for God’s gift of joy in the midst of sorrow. I am thankful that He hears our prayers and knows our every need.
Restore our fortunes, Lord,
like streams in the Negev.
will reap with songs of joy.
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with them