Storytime!
Years ago, during the most challenging time in my life, I learned one of the most profound lessons of my life. (Common pattern, for sure - challenge = learning and growth) Today I share the story of learning that lesson.
At eighteen years old, one of my children moved out of our home. In the years leading up to that day, my mother's heart struggled under the weight of watching him descend into the world of drug and alcohol abuse, and turning away from all the things I knew could heal his hurting, questioning soul.
The day he left, he walked out the front door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a few items in a backpack. It wasn't an angry parting; he just chose to leave. He had nowhere to go, no plans of where he might live. He took us all into a dark unknown.
In the months that followed, the prayers and fasting I offered up intensified, but the days and nights of not knowing where he was or if he was okay took their toll. Occasionally, a friend would let me know they had seen him at the river or somewhere around town. Once in a while, he stopped by the house. It was good to see him, but he didn't look good. I could see him descending farther. I felt a heavy weight on my heart. My thoughts were consumed with how I might help him come back to himself and find self-love and inner peace again. I found it hard to smile or take any real pleasure in the good things in my life with that weight as my constant companion.
I am a very spiritual person, and so, in the conversations I had with him, I often reminded him that joy is found in the Gospel - in its principles, and in its practices. Amid all this darkness, one day, as I prayed and pondered, I received one of the clearest impressions I have ever received. It unfolded as a conversation that went something like this.
"I know you're hurting. Rightly so."
Me - I am.
"I know you want more than anything for him to be happy and at peace again."
Me - Yes, more than anything.
"You keep telling him there's joy in the Gospel, which is true...You need to show him that joy."
Me - I need to show him?
"Yes."
Me - Do You mean I not only have to survive this, but I have to be joyful during it?!
"Yes."
Me - I don't think I can.
"You can."
Me - But he's in so much pain, and he's my child.
"He is. And if you want him to believe he can live in joy, you have to show him it's possible. You can be empathetic toward his pain without making it your own. You can show empathy and still live in joy. It's the kindest thing you can do. It's the only way he will believe joy is real and attainable."
___ . ___ . ___ . ___ . ___ . ___ . ___ . ___ . ___
Recently, I've felt the weight of all the pain, anger, and struggle of my brothers and sisters in America and around the world. As we navigate the world of COVID-19 and all of its far-reaching, many-faceted consequences, as we fight against racism and inequality, as we see the hurt, anger, and pain of humankind splashed across all kinds of media, the burden can seem discouraging, perhaps unbearable. For some, it may even feel soul-crushing.
As I pondered what my small self can possibly do to help alleviate so much suffering, this lesson from years ago came back forcefully into my mind and heart. Joy is possible - now. I can show that. So, when you see my posts full of hope and optimism during this trying time, it's not because I don't see or feel the collective pain of so many, it's because I know from personal experience that there is always joy to be found, even during the pain.
I will always find where personal power lies, and I will help others to find that, too - especially in the most challenging times. I will always find a way to joy, and I will help others find their way to it, too - if that's where they want to go. I believe clarity empowers change - and that joy and clarity go hand in hand.
That's why I choose joy. Every time.
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