Grief Gratitude Grace

Graceful Beauty

Lately, I've been doing a lot of grieving. For the people of Christchurch, New Zealand, and Miyagi Prefecture, Japan, and their relatives around the world. For Chad. For a high school classmate who's suffering an inconceivable loss.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that grieving for them makes me feel grateful, but isn't that almost always the way? Don't you see someone else suffering and have a moment of gladness that it isn't you even as you wish they didn't have to experience it either? Why should we pile guilt for gratitude on top of grieving?

Whether with or without sorrow, I love my life. A blogger friend's post reminded me of that this morning. Things don't have to be perfectly hunky-dory for me to have great appreciation the people in my life. Such an amazing panoply of lives have touched mine, molded mine, shaped me gently (and not-so-gently) into the person that I am. A person I'm still learning how to love and cherish, a person who is still evolving, still learning, still growing.

And I don't regret a step of the journey. Parts have seemed almost ridiculously difficult, though less so in retrospect. Once you've lived through hardship and emerged into the sunshine on the other side, it's not always easy to peer back into those darker regions and see very clearly. You're a bit blinded, you see, and that's probably how it should be.

I don't really know whether "time heals all wounds" is an accurate phrase. Time makes them easier to bear, easier to contextualize… harder to recall with clarity.

So on the other side of my tears for friends known and unknown, I find genuine gratitude, renewed energy for my endeavors, and hope for healing of the deep sorrows of the world.

Put more simply, I find love.

Three Boys I Love