When Joy and Grief Collide

A brokenhearted woman learns she is not carrying a much-desired child the same week she hosts a baby shower for one who wasn't even trying to conceive.

A wife and mother receives a clean pathology report the same week a brave warrior receives a final, terminal diagnosis.

Senseless tragedy claims lives far too young the same week one who is prepared to die is granted a reprieve.

Grief and joy.

Joy and grief.

How often our hearts must embrace both simultaneously.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Romans 12:15

I've struggled with this for a long time.  How could I laugh with delight over the blessing of one friend while carrying the weight of sadness for another friend's loss?

There is a time for every thing, and a season for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

But what about when the seasons collide?  What about the mornings when you wake up rejoicing over the news you were longing to receive only to turn on the television and be devastated by news of the latest tragedy?  What about when the joy over the beginning of one season necessitates the painful relinquishment of a passing season?

Joy and grief.

Grief and joy.

This is the constant tension I've felt recently.  I, who prefer to neatly label and file my experiences, have found blessing and brokenness coinciding far too often for my liking.  And, I've found I cannot set aside the negative emotions in favor of the pleasant ones.  I have to feel them both ... or feel nothing at all.

... we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.  Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord.  We live by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:4-7

The longing, the discomfort, it's evidence.  It's a promise.  It's the recognition that things are not as they should, not as they will be.  It's the Spirit reminding us that this is a temporary home.  The grief is only for a moment, the joy goes on and on.