On the Verge

Are you living in anticipation of grief? What if embracing the pain of loss could bring you greater joy?

Fact: joy is elusive for most.  Regardless of circumstance, it seems most struggle to sustain “the pervasive sense of well-being”, a definition of joy offered by Fr. Mike Schmitz, the affable face of Bible Study in a Year podcast. Joy in the Christian biblical/theological sense has little to do with emotion, but rather is evidence of the abiding of the Holy Spirit in one’s mind and being, and the better choices that are made as a result. These good and holy choices leave one with a consistent contentment and satisfaction.  So, joy, is not quite the elation or sheer happiness that is clearly connected with an event, like a wedding celebration, or with circumstances that are beneficial or willed by one, like a job promotion. Nonetheless, whether joy is a passing feeling or a persistent “well-being” resulting from good choices, to deny the difficulty of sustaining joy throughout a time of trial or deep suffering would be to deny reality. And what if your time of trial is not just a one-off experience, but an endless Job-like existence? Is joy even possible? Mercy, it better be, or I need to rethink my whole mission statement.

As the mom of a child with profound disabilities, my circumstances on a “good” day, are impossibly difficult for many, maybe even depressingly pointless for some. Whether the pharmacy cannot supply me with a critical medication that my child depends on for survival, the aide doesn’t show up (or I can’t even find an aide to employ), or we have to self-isolate yet another weekend due to another illness, life is not easy or without complications for us parents/caregivers. Even when all is going well, it seems we find ourselves constantly on the verge of disappointment at best, and tragedy at worst. No matter what, grief is lurking in the shadows ready to pounce. What can we do to fight grief in order to have joy? I fully expect you will hate my answer. You don’t.

Two weeks ago, a precious classmate of my son passed away from sudden complications of her medical condition.  This is the second death in 3 years that has touched my child’s classroom. Although, my son is in a class that caters to children with major medical complexities and severe disabilities, which makes sudden death a real possibility, the death of any child is heart wrenching. Not to add a stereotypical layer onto this grief, but it needs to be said. These children are the closest most of us get to having an angel in our midst. They are uniquely Christ-like—innocent and undeserving of the pain they have endured throughout their little lives. They serve as our role models for lives well-lived, having enjoyed to the best of their ability life’s precious, yet simple moments, we abled-bodied seem too privileged to notice. Losing these beloved smiling souls seems so unfair and incomprehensible. But if I am completely honest that’s not the worst of it.

As a “special” mom, that fights for joy on a daily basis, I sometimes fantasize about a having a life where I don’t have to fight quite so hard.  At this beautiful girl’s memorial, I’m ashamed to admit, I discovered a bit jealousy toward this mom in mourning.  Please, try not to judge me too harshly.  But this beautiful Christian mom, a pillar of strength, despite being broken by loss, could now rest with the knowledge that her child is Home, safe in the arms of our Heavenly Father, no longer suffering, no longer requiring medical interventions to survive, and able to soar in her glorified body.  Not to mention, (and this thought feels especially shameful) this mom is now free to pursue her own desires unencumbered by the responsibilities and limitations of caregiving.  These are my thoughts, and I am only speaking for myself. But I wonder, I am actually alone in such thoughts? My intuition tells me I am not.

My hunch was confirmed by clinical psychologist, Dr. Matt Breuninger’s, statements on Matt Fradd’s podcast, Pint’s with Aquinas, when describing “disenfranchised grief” as particularly experienced by parents after miscarriage. “Disenfranchised grief is when your grieving doesn’t fit in with your larger society’s attitude about dealing with death and loss. The lack of support you get during your grieving process can prolong emotional pain (WebMD’s definition).” Unexpected responses to grief are not always welcomed, encouraged, or handled with love and without judgement. In my case, grieving ahead of time and experiencing all the mixed emotions in the anticipation of my son’s death, feels so illegitimate, as well as ungrateful for the reality that he is still alive and here with me.  I found myself isolated in this shame and, also, in the fact that very few were willing to even approach this anticipatory grief with me. (For more on anticipatory grief, read David Kessler’s The Sixth Stage of Grief: Finding Meaning or click here.)

Whether you are grieving the loss of a miscarriage, a breakup, a pet, unemployment, or in anticipation of a death, grief is grief.  It hurts like hell. And it means there will be a loss and a change to be endured, survived and ultimately accepted. Although, I’m not proud of my feelings of relief, I refuse to stay ashamed and urge you to make this same choice if you are on the verge of grief. I need to hope for relief to remain in joy and not fall into despair.  Relief that my baby boy will be free one day, in every possible way, and that I, myself, will have a new experience of life, that doesn’t include watching my son suffer a seizure or difficulty beathing through another pneumonia. This desire is perfectly human.  The image of Mary watching her Son suffer an unimaginable agony and death comes to mind. In my gut, I believe, in the moment, she must have wanted and prayed for His suffering, and her own, to end, even if it meant death. Yet, unlike our culture of death’s attempts at controlling and ending suffering naturally, Mary held these things in her heart, and, in love, she remained near her son and observed His pain, surrendering control over how of the inevitable outcome would unfold. Despite the display of agony, she remained, while others, fled. This personal revelation gives me peace and permission to grieve honestly and uniquely, in my own way, not rushing past it, but allowing it to surface how it will. Friends, I hope you give yourself the opportunity to grieve unashamed and completely in the way you need to find meaning through such a loss.  

Which brings me back to the beginning. In the name of true Joy, you can’t squash or skip over grief, to get over it.  Surrender is key. Whatever your response to loss looks or feels like, it must be processed and observed, and hopefully respected and supported by those who surround you. Yet, regardless of support, I pray you have the courage to sit in your grief the way you know how. It’s true, some people don’t want or need to talk, or write a blog about their grief, to process it. I get it. I only encourage those grieving, to not avoid the “negative” feelings, or perceived negative feelings, of loss. Embracing the pain, not avoiding it, acknowledging it, and understanding it, can be what brings the most relief, I suspect sooner rather than later.  Strangely, at times, relief seems to be a dirty word in some Christian circles, especially Catholic ones.  Suffering, properly oriented, can be a vehicle of grace through purification and sanctification, an opportunity to offer your pain as a “living sacrifice” in spiritual worship of God, to suffer as He did on the cross, in the hope to be glorified with Him for all eternity in Heaven (Phil 1: 29 & Rom 8: 17).  And yes, we must embrace our cross and carry it in order to be a true disciple of Christ. And this is precisely what I recommend here. BUT I insist, the experience of suffering is as distinct as every person on this planet. So too is the way we each approach it. Therefore, embrace your pain no matter how it emerges through your individually, wondrously created personality.  I, an unabashed sanguine, anticipate grief and search for ways to overcome the sorrow ASAP. I have a natural proclivity for fun and pleasure. The shame of my knee-jerk response to escape pain is what I must process and understand to find meaning, peace, acceptance, and ultimately, joy.  I propose, you and I lean into the paradoxical promise, “. . . for as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” Somehow, with God’s help we can find joy through the pain, not around it.  Another way to look at it, as C.S. Lewis explained in The Problem of Pain, “Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself.”

Friends, joy, like love, must be sincere in order to be authentic joy.  We cannot deny the pains of life to gain more joy.  If that’s the case, my “Fight for Joy” is in vain, and we should quit while we are ahead and drown our sorrows in cocktails, porn, or pick your pleasure. The Fight for Joy is against the lies that say we must deny suffering and embrace the chase for happiness, no matter the cost. True, lasting Joy necessitates entering into the beauty of our complex hearts and gently examining the “ugly” parts that sin has caused—allowing Jesus to come in those places and mercifully love them into complete restoration. Knowing and allowing the full experience of loss, yet, choosing to live out of the deep love of what or who was lost, is where real Joy lives. Kessler, renown grief expert, claims life may end but love continues.

Lastly, observing grief brings dimension to how you experience life. It’s easy to be happy when all is well and going as planned, but is that authentic joy? Nope. It’s a happy house of cards which blows away with the slightest breeze. And let’s be blunt, who is more interesting, forget empathetic or genuine, the person who has loved, lost, and examined suffering, or the one who dodged pain, not out of lack of loss, but due to fear of facing difficult emotions? I find the latter sadly weak and to be pitied, and when it comes down to it, superficial—this is not the person you want with you in worst of storms. One who knows suffering and embraces it with great love, knows true Joy. This person has been through the desert and can appreciate all the simple joys like fresh water and shade, and this person won’t run at the first sign of trouble. Who do you want to be?

Fact: in life we will lose, many times. What if suffering pain and loss, in sincerity, is the pathway to real Joy? And what if Joy is not just a sense of wellbeing, but a person, who can show you the way? What if His name is Jesus?