I do not learn as much from sorrow as I probably should.
To me sorrow is usually something to be rushed through, a sort of waypoint at best on a trip to a destination that is ever, always, somewhere else. Part of it, I suppose, is due to a personality that can be ebullient almost to the point of psychosis at times. Part of it is likely due to the fact that I simply do not like to be sad.
I suspect I have missed something in the process.
If I had to think of some of the greatest times of learning I have had, they have come about as part of sorrow, even if I did not recognize it as such: Sorrow about the loss of a parent. Sorrow about the loss of dreams. Sorrow about the loss of relationships that seem to simply fade away rather than fulfilling the potential that they had.
Even something as simple, it seems, as the loss of a beloved pet.
Why does sorrow offer us this? I do not wonder it is of a similar sentiment to that of C.S. Lewis, who noted in The Problem of Pain "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pain; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." Sometimes there is simply no other way to get our attention than by pain - or sorrow. But if in pain God seeks to rouse us, perhaps in sorrow He means us to take stock of our situation and treasure all those things we have all the more tightly.
How often have we sought out closer family communication after a beloved relative dies, hugged our children (or pets) closer, or taken stock of all the good things we do have in our lives because sorrow came through grief or loss? When these things happen, do we not almost instinctively look to the good we still have instead as well as the good we have lost?
Is that the only lesson sorrow might hold? I suspect not; likely it is different for different people. But sorrow - at least for me - drives to what I have that is still good, even as I mourn what is past.
I have not often sought that pearl in midst of my pain. It appears I need to look for it more closely.
Guessing for many the pain of Sorrow masks whatever Good can be found, for a few the pain is overwhelming.
ReplyDeleteNylon12, I suspect you are correct - certainly for me that can be true. But, at least in God's economy, everything has a purpose (His Glory/Our benefit); sometimes I am just too limited to see that.
DeleteI often confuse Sorrow with Regret. The first is knowing I am going to miss the departed. The second is knowing I could have treated that missing piece / person better than I should. If Regret is worse than Sorrow, then I knew I made a mistake.
ReplyDeleteOh, that is such a great distinction. Very spot on.
DeleteAnd sometimes Regret itself generates Sorrow, as you so well note: as we look back, we realize the mistakes and/or harm we did. The worst part of Regret, of course, is it is often something that cannot ever be gone back and reversed, only perhaps patched over.
Perhaps it is part of being an optimist, but I don't spend much time on sorrow or regret. For me, sorrow is the natural order of life and we will feel it from time to time but we must continue nurturing those who will sorrow for us when we are gone. Regret is easier for me to describe. I tell myself with the same knowledge I had whenever I made a decision I have regretted, I would probably make the same regretful choice. I chalk it up as gaining wisdom and move on.
ReplyDeleteEd, I am probably the opposite on both counts. I tend more time on sorrow than maybe I should - or draw it out longer than may be needed. And regrets....well, as we have discussed before, I can dwell on those for years.
DeleteThis brings to mind the famous passage in Ecclesiastes about there being an appropriate time for everything, including "a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance." Immediately following the narrative is the statement, "He has made everything appropriate in its time." The sobering message to me, as you have underscored, is that grief and sorrow are part of life, and God does in fact teach us in and through it. And in some mysterious way, deep sorrow and great joy can somehow co-exist and even overlap. I have a dear friend whose husband died of cancer two years ago. Now, after a stroke, she is dying, leaving behind four adult daughters who are heartbroken. Two of them are pregnant, and will soon rejoice in new life, even as they grieve the loss of their mother (and still their father).
ReplyDeleteBob - What an incredibly relevant verse you bring up. And indeed. they do often overlap.
DeleteIn a very small way - not at all like your friend - I had the joy of finally being able to go back and visit my parents for a space, only to realize that perhaps the reason I was really there was to help them transition into an entirely different living situation and stage of life.