I have a confession. When I started this blog 8 years ago, it wasn't because I was bubbling over with so much joy that I needed to find a place to document it. It was more the opposite. I was having such a hard time seeing the joy in my life that I needed a formal exercise to recognize it.
I remember feeling tired. A bit overwhelmed. Beginning to become aware that my marriage was strained. Feeling like I was doing everything half-ass....not the best mother, employee, wife or friend that I should be. I'm sure from the outside it appeared that I had it all together. From the inside it felt like I was madly trying to hold things together with duct tape and Elmers glue.
But in the midst of that, this blog was born, because somewhere inside of me I continued to find small sparks of joy that helped sustain me when so many other big, uncomfortable feelings were trying to take center stage. Watching my kids play peacefully in the sandbox, baking cookies on a random Wednesday afternoon, taking a walk with a friend...all these small things were the oasis's that kept me afloat between toddler temper tantrums, spilled milk, and struggling to define my identity and find my place in the world as I entered middle age.
Through the years, I have come into my own space, come to know and trust myself more, and learned how to cultivate more joy in my life. So much of that process has really been about making space to listen and wonder. I've learned to trust myself more and listen to the "shoulds" less. I have learned to identify, feel and move through emotions (even the though ones) rather than putting them on the back burner to slowly simmer into an angry boil. I've learned to give myself and those around me a bit of grace. I've learned to say yes to the things that are important and no to the things that drain me. I have decided I'd rather be a happy, imperfect human, than a worn out human trying to appear to be perfect.
Thank God I came into 2020 with better clarity about who I am and what I need, because it was a YEAR, full of life lessons big and small. 2021 is shaping up to be another collection of lessons and challenges as we navigate my mom's terminal cancer diagnosis. This is not something I feel prepared for, and yet we don't really have a choice but to continue through this heartbreaking season of life, ready or not. And ironically, after neglecting this blog for months, I'm drawn back to this space again.
Where is the joy now?
The joy is in the depth of my grief, which is actually just a measure of the depth of my love for my mom.
Joy is in my newfound awareness of and empathy for those that grew up without a mom, lost their mom younger in life, or have a relationship with their mom that is life draining rather than life giving.
The joy is in watching my children navigate lessons on mortality and faith and love with sadness and curiosity. As they process the magnitude of this impending loss, their questions and compassion remind me that they are remarkable little humans that I am privileged to call my own.
The joy is in recognizing the strength of my village. Friends offer support in so many ways and receiving their love is comforting. It buoys me and draws me down off my pedestal of self-sufficiency. I've also realized that the beautiful village my mom created for herself will be one of the most precious gifts I will inherit from her. Those that love her are now loving me.
The joy is in sharing jokes about how my mom's body is now "bikini ready" after losing 30+ pounds on her chemo diet plan.
The joy is in this sacred, thin space where we are keenly aware of the truth of all the cliches of life.....it's a gift, every moment is precious, take nothing for granted.
What I'm settling into is a new understanding that seemingly incongruent emotions can exist simultaneously. Joy and grief are not mutually exclusive. Allowing ourselves to laugh while our hearts are breaking is not disingenuous. This dichotomy is the full and authentic expression of our human experience. Finding joy during difficult seasons is a challenge. We have to look a little harder, and pay closer attention. We have to relax into the process of embracing both at the same time, not postponing one for the other. But if we allow ourselves to seek the joy, even in the midst of grief, we will find it is there, in its most raw and precious form.
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