This past year has been one of loss - maybe it's the season of life I am in, but it seems like I am more aware of death and tragedy. And it seems like starting with Jim's death last year, there were so many deaths that I was aware of.
Some were older people who were ready to die, but their deaths were a loss nonetheless. A friend from long ago died, a young woman I taught as a Beehive died a tragic death related to alcohol, a good friend's son died young, a favorite aunt of mine died after a brief struggle with dementia, a young boy in our ward who had been severely disabled died somewhat suddenly, an older sister I had interacted with quite a bit when I was Relief Society president died and we were needed to put a service together for her. The losses seemed to pile up -more than I remembered from past years.
And now I am not so much hearing about deaths, but tragic illnesses and accidents. A young daughter of friends of Phoebe has been diagnosed with leukemia, a young couple (who I only know about through blogging) with 4 small children was severely burned in a plane crash last weekend, couples I know are separating - some of them young who don't seem to know better and some of them old enough to know better!! (I don't mean to be judgemental here, but sometimes I think we live in a throwaway world and people sometimes think of marriage as expendable.)
And so I think I shouldn't complain about the hours Harry keeps when he's in the middle of a job, or the amount of work it's going to take to get my classroom in shape, or the weeds in the garden, or the closets that have not been reorganized (were they ever organized??), or the solictors who knock on my door, or the phone calls that come when I'm trying to take a nap or read a book, or the paint job the house needs that I don't see happening any time soon, or the price of gas, or the hassle it is to get subs for my temple assignment, or just going to work each day!!
Instead I should celebrate the opportunity I have to serve others, the fact that we have a house we can call home, the wonderful husband who loves me, the car I have to drive when I need it, the friends who are so willing to listen to me, the great kids and grandkids I have the pleasure of being with very often, the beautiful flowers and trees that line the streets of my town, and the job I have that pays well and is actually not a bad job at all.
Why does it take sorrow and sadness to refocus our thinking?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
You already know this and it was a rhetorical question, but--my answer would be, it takes sorrow and sadness to refocus because, for one thing, when we hear about sad events in others' lives, we put ourselves in a similar position and think of our own "burdens" in terms of how much we have to lose. My toddler is exhausting, but wouldn't the day be completely empty without him? I'm uncomfortably pregnant, but would I rather not be pregnant at all? My husband can be thoughtless, but really when I think about it isn't he thoughtful the overwhelming majority of the time? What would I do if I lost any of these blessings?
In terms of when something sad happens in our own life rather than someone else's, we have to take comfort in what is left. Either way, in our own life or vicariously through others', when loss happens it reminds us that no blessings come without burdens attached, as we read in the scriptures.
A quote from The Business of Being Born is about the effects of natural oxytocin (undiluted by, say, an epidural) but it's applicable--"You can't have the bliss without the pain." Each painful experience reminds us of this fact, but because our lives are busy enough that we don't have time to sit and revel in our blessings 24-7, maybe the fear of losing them can manifest itself in the form of annoyance, or indifference, or anything to convince ourselves subconsciously that our blessings aren't so exquisite that we can't live without them. Digging too deep? Maybe.
Long comment.
It was not necessarily a rhetorical question.
And your answers are absolutely right, but they are still hard to accept at times.
Usually I do better "upon reflection."
Post a Comment