remembrance

Yay! Now, Let’s Be Sad!

“I am attracted to the dramatic side of life, even if it is dark and painful,” Aunt Beth, laughing, reads a question from an Enneagram personality quiz. 

“No!  Who would ever mark that one??” She and a few others laugh while my eyebrows furrow and my lips instinctively respond, “Well I would.  Sorrow is so beautiful.”

— — —

I was reminded of this conversation, which took place in November of 2018, twice this week. Once from my Mom,* and then again yesterday when some coworkers and I began discussing Pixar’s Inside Out.

“Hope, which character would you be?”  To those who know me well, it’s no secret that I’m predisposed to melancholy; however, I am paradoxically an encouraging and upbeat person the majority of the time.

“Oh,” a smile dashes across my face, “I’m definitely Sadness.” 

“You?  Sadness? Why?” His cross expression detailed his surprise at my quick and seemingly unfit answer.

“Because I appreciate sorrow—that’s why I like Inside Out so much.  Yes, everyone wants to be happy.  Happiness is great, but it is sorrow that teaches us when something is wrong.  Sorrow demands a response—it makes us pause and question and reevaluate our priorities.  In a sense, sadness is the foundation of happiness.” **

— — —

We live in a society of avoiders: sorrow, pain, fear, loneliness, empty-time, noiselessness, and the like are wildly neglected emotions. Of course, no one likes these feelings, but everyone certainly experiences them. So what do we do? We’re taught to ignore our sorrow—do something that will lift your spirit. We numb the pain with alcohol and addictions. We counter loneliness with a busy schedule, fearing that we—God forbid—think and work through our issues during our spare time. For, in that spare time, we cannot avoid our feelings forever. But, when we finally have a free moment, we disassociate with music to drown out our thoughts. One nation, united in our separateness and enslaved to whatever we think takes our pain away.

Like Joy and Fear and Anger and Disgust do all that they can to keep Sadness from tainting Riley’s memories, we too do everything we can to avoid Sadness.  But what do we learn at the end of the Pixar film?  Ah yes, that we need Sadness.

Sorrow is beautiful.  She indicates our humanity.  She notifies us that a problem has entered into our lives.  She tells us that life has been better and reminds us that it should be better.  If we respect and respond to sorrow in an appropriate manner, she teaches us to hope again.

Sorrow appears with disappointment—no, we didn’t think it’d be like this.  We’re disappointed in what we’ve lost.  We set out with expectations, knowing what happiness feels like, and we were crushed by an event or a person who severed those expectations.  We lost our expectations and we lost our hopes and we lost our dreams.  Sorrow tells us that something is missing, but we cannot treat sorrow with the dignity she deserves if we simply choose to avoid her.

We have to stop teaching people that it’s bad to experience sorrow.  No one simply “gets over” disappointments.  When we teach people that they aught not be sorrowful, we’re teaching them that they need a quick solution to a deep emotional wound. 

You didn’t get over it.  You still remember the pain.  You may have healed with time and dedication, but you will not forget the sorrow you experienced along the way.

Sorrow profoundly reveals the depths of our love for one another.  When you lose someone you love—whether through death, separation, or heartbreak—you experience the fullness of love.  You experience all the intricacies of love, and it is very painful, but it teaches you to love.  It teaches you of what you have loved and it reveals to you the incredible capacity you have to love. 

My dear friend, do not squander your sorrow simply because you don’t want to feel the sadness anymore.   Can you not see the beauty of your own heart?  Can you not see that your ability to love grows yet greater?  Can you not see how beautiful that is?  How beautiful you are?

Brokenness is not a place to stay, and sorrow is not an emotion that we should become addicted to.  Like any healthy relationship, we must guard against codependency.  We cannot be over dependent on any emotion, but, rather, we must allow interdependency.  Each emotion deserves its autonomy—do not allow yourself to become trapped in an unhealthy sorrow, and yet do not refuse to feel only happiness. 

Sadness will come.  Welcome her and nurture her.  Sadness isn’t there to hurt you.  She’s appeared to help you heal, and you must heal. 

Open your eyes to the sorrow of your heart and seek God to pursue healing.  Diligently process your sorrow to understand it.  Sorrow can be scary but understanding helps to calm our fears. 

It’s okay to be sad.  It’s okay to feel all the emotions other than happiness.  We call them “negative emotions,” but, realistically, they are the emotions that teach us how to live in abundance.

— — —

Above all, love each other deeply, for love covers over a multitude of sins

I Peter 4:8

God’s love.

God loves us.

We broken people.

Lord, teach me to love like you.

I cause God sorrow again and again and again. I am toxic to him. I fail him again and again, and yet He chooses to love me.

He chose to send his Son to cover us with his love.

Listen, friend, it’s painful when someone we care about ignores or abandons or hurts us, but may we not grow cynical. May we remember to love them and may we continue to love after we’ve lost them.

May we not forget those times when we ignore God and when we fail those around us. May we always remember to love one another, for, in love, we heal and we grow from the sorrows endured.

*With Mom, the conversation went:
“Mom, I’m just sad today and I hate it,” and Mom responded “I thought you loved sorrow.”
“No, I don’t love it. I just appreciate it. It’s just so profound. Okay, you’re right. Maybe I do love it”

**Today that coworker asked me if I was “feeling better.”  Confused, I asked whether he thought I was sick, and he clarified that he was wondering if I was still sad.  His words inspired me with a soft smile and meager laugh, “Oh, I’m not sad all the time.  I just appreciate sorrow.”

For Further Reading:

Ecclesiastes 7:3

Matthew 5:1-3

John 14:1

Isaiah 53:4-6

Ephesians 4:32

Colossians 3:13

In Loving Memory

Life is too precious.

 

My Grossi met Jesus March 11, 2019.  She listened to Him release the words, “Well done, Thy good and faithful servant.”  I wonder if He had tears in His eyes as He said it.  God watched Mary Ellen endure her deepest joys and most anguished sorrows.  She made it—she fought the good fight, and she finished the race with joy.  I wonder if it brought tears to His eyes.  

He had comforted her when she mourned, as He comforts we who mourn.  

 

I think that the hardest part about grief is knowing that you will never be able to make memories with that person again.  Death prompts you to remember all the little things that you didn’t realize you would miss.

 

Her smile, her laughter, her lipstick, her spunk.  Her resolution.  She was stubborn, as many of you know, and she was strong.  I admired her tenacity.  

 

It’s in those little moments that you grow to love someone—it’s the collection of those small moments that builds our trust and our admiration.  Those small, insignificant moments.  

And it’s often not until death that we realize the magnificence of all those moments.  

 

Mary Ellen Schraner built her life from a collection of moments that highlighted the importance of faith, family, and friends.  This church and these people made those moments.  You, here today, were everything to her.  She found her foundation in Christ and her blessings and joys in you.  

 

Nine years ago, my mother gave her a notebook entitled Grandmother, Tell Me Your Story.  Within it poses the question, “What are some of the things you hope your children and grandchildren have learned from you?”

 

Her answer: “Faith—the belief in God, Cooking—Hospitality,” which I know many of you inherited, and “peace in the family.”  Mary Ellen taught me those three things, and she taught me to have fun and to celebrate when life calls for celebration.  She prayed for her family more than anyone I know, she welcomed me to her home many times, and she filled my heart with joy and abundance.  

 

It’s strange that she’s not here with us.  It doesn’t resonate well.  My mother once said, “We are eternal beings.  We were never meant to say goodbye.”  I suppose that is why it is so devastatingly painful to miss someone who deposited memories into our own life that made us have a life worth living.

 

So, as we hold our breath, and as we will the world to stop spinning, let’s take the quietness of grief and utilize it as a reminder to cling to the mundane moments.  Let’s hold one another a little closer, for a little longer.  Life is far too precious and far too short to cling to anything but those who love us.  

 

I John 2:17 reads, “And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.”  This became one of my favorite verses the first time I endured grief from a separation that feels so very permanent, but the reality is that permanence fades when you recall Christ’s three words: “It is finished.”  

 

Mary Ellen was ready to meet the Savior of the world, the God that held her tears in a leger.  The God that gave her breath, and the God that took her breath away.  The God who allowed tragedy, the God who prepared and encouraged her through devastation.  The God who blessed her with so many people and things.  The God who allowed her to live a full life—she was not afraid to meet the God she knew so well and loved so dear.

 

I wonder if she brought tears to her Savior’s eyes—happy tears.  Christ knew that He brought her home.  The heartache and the pain of this world has left her, and she has been made alive in the fullness of Christ.  

 

While we cry because we miss her, I think that Christ may shed a tear in welcoming her home.