cynthia at the sandwich life Friends, Me

Perspective Through Sorrow

Good Lord but life puts things into perspective for you.  And you certainly don't need to look far….

Yesterday I read another moving post by a friend of mine who is losing her house to foreclosure. O.k., I suppose she's not really a friend but she is a facebook friend, the wife of an old friend of ours–himself someone we didn't really know THAT well but felt attached to….do you know what I mean? Since becoming friends on facebook I have become a fan of her writing and know her through that intimacy–which is powerful as her writing is so very, very intimate. So these friends, who are distant in some ways, but not in others, are struggling with the loss of a beloved home, the loss of income that preceded that and all the reasons for these things. And I am so moved and sad. I look around my rickety little house that is messy and crowded and think how lucky I am. You know….there but for….

Then this morning I had an email from one of my most dearly beloved friends. She just lost her unborn child. A miscarriage….I didn't even know she was pregnant. She said I'd been on her mind and she was ready to send a happy pregnancy announcement to me. The words she wrote to me were so incredibly moving. And I love these people so…the two of them separately and together and their two boys and the family they make which reminds me in many ways of us. She wrote "In my writing I use the language of the body of Christ because it is central to my faith, but I do not mean to impose it on you. It was simply the only shape I could give this experience." And as I read her words I am once again moved by someone's faith. This faith that I don't really understand but respect so deeply. There must be a better word…a mixture of respect and envy and love…I just can't capture it.  She wrote:

On this past Monday, August 27—the same day that we saw our
child alive and seemingly healthy on an ultrasound—I received a generic mass
email, based on my due date, simply titled, “Your pregnancy now: 13 weeks.” The
first line read: “Fingerprints have now formed on your baby’s tiny fingertips.”
On Thursday morning, I held his hand on my own fingertip. We could see that
every miniscule bone and joint was present, and we reveled in the completeness
of his long fingers down to his unbelievably small, but beautiful, fingernails.
I contemplate the verse, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain
a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90: 12 NIV). I thank God that this child’s days
reached a number that allowed us to see so clearly how fearfully and
wonderfully he was made.

And I was struck by the way in which that love is itself embodied.
It moved through the arms of my husband who so literally held me up when I
could not stand myself. It allowed me to embrace my sons, and
comfort them as they cried, indeed wept, for the life they had hoped and
planned to live with this little brother.

It came through the voices and words of our family and
friends as we received calls and messages while we made our way through a very
long, hard day at the hospital. It came earlier through our Pastor as he
arrived at our home within minutes of our call, with a prayer, “Lord, have mercy,”
and watched our children as we left for the emergency room. It came through
everyone who loved and cared for our boys that day before they even knew
what had happened. It has come through pained smiles and big hugs. It has come
through meals that provide needed sustenance. It has come through those who
have sat and listened to me tell my story, most likely in too much detail, as I
tried to make sense of it all. It has most certainly come through the hands
that have prayed for us. It has even come through the certain, trustworthy love
of friends and family who did not know that we were expecting a child. Some of
you may think that you have done nothing; but joined together it makes nothing
less than the body of Christ.

Powerful words. Powerful pain and powerful comfort.

I send my love to all of you, my friends losing their home, my friends that lost a child and to the rest of you that are dealing with sorrows.

All my love and my sorrow, my sorrow that it is YOUR sorrows enabling me see my life more clearly.

Perspective. Always there.

8 thoughts on “Perspective Through Sorrow”

  1. You know, as much as I’m fairly agnostic, when I was growing up, and would hear “the body of Christ” it would always freak me out. However, I eventually decided that what was meant, what was REALLY MEANT by that phrase was not the literal “body” (“some of his disciples were thick and ordinary” — John Lennon) but more of a, if you will, body politic. I’ve often said that whether Christ himself was immortal — that question is irrelevant to me because whether or not he was the Son of God does not make his teachings any less relevant. So when people come together to support and love and send healing thoughts for somebody, that is a “body.” I know I’m rambing here, because I too am often jealous of the faith that goes with a more literal interpretation, (it’s so much easier, isn’t it?) but the true spirituality underneath it all is something we all possess.

    Reply

  2. I had to put down my 2 year old kitty unexpectedly this weekend. I know it doesn’t compare to the angst and sorry your other friends are dealing with. Our situation occurred without forewarning and happened incredibly quickly…another reminder of how fickle “life as we know it” can be. Perspective is the gift of seeing a situation or even life itself from another angle or through anothers eyes. Perspective is always a good thing to have or even get a fresh batch of on occassion.
    Perspective provides us the great opportunity to provide both empathy and sympathy…something the world could use a whole lot more of.

    Reply

  6. Hi Cynthia, Having cried when I read this post, I have to admit also that I get a kick out of how you started with, “Good Lord”. I don’t know why that just made me laugh today. As a former Catholic, I still say Jesus, Mary and Joseph! when I’m really pushed, or Christ Almighty! or even, Jesus Wept! on special occasions. Somehow these are better for certain things than a good four letter word, which, I’m afraid I also employ a lot. And btw, I LOVE the drawing of the mower you posted, and the, what are those, fumes from the engine? Splendid.

    Reply

  7. Last week, a tiny black kitten crawled to our porch early in the morning. By noon, it had died, despite all we could do for it. It’s not the same as these other losses, but it still left a hole in our hearts.

    Reply

Thoughts?

cynthia at the sandwich life Friends, Me

Perspective Through Sorrow

Good Lord but life puts things into perspective for you.  And you certainly don't need to look far….

Yesterday I read another moving post by a friend of mine who is losing her house to foreclosure. O.k., I suppose she's not really a friend but she is a facebook friend, the wife of an old friend of ours–himself someone we didn't really know THAT well but felt attached to….do you know what I mean? Since becoming friends on facebook I have become a fan of her writing and know her through that intimacy–which is powerful as her writing is so very, very intimate. So these friends, who are distant in some ways, but not in others, are struggling with the loss of a beloved home, the loss of income that preceded that and all the reasons for these things. And I am so moved and sad. I look around my rickety little house that is messy and crowded and think how lucky I am. You know….there but for….

Then this morning I had an email from one of my most dearly beloved friends. She just lost her unborn child. A miscarriage….I didn't even know she was pregnant. She said I'd been on her mind and she was ready to send a happy pregnancy announcement to me. The words she wrote to me were so incredibly moving. And I love these people so…the two of them separately and together and their two boys and the family they make which reminds me in many ways of us. She wrote "In my writing I use the language of the body of Christ because it is central to my faith, but I do not mean to impose it on you. It was simply the only shape I could give this experience." And as I read her words I am once again moved by someone's faith. This faith that I don't really understand but respect so deeply. There must be a better word…a mixture of respect and envy and love…I just can't capture it.  She wrote:

On this past Monday, August 27—the same day that we saw our
child alive and seemingly healthy on an ultrasound—I received a generic mass
email, based on my due date, simply titled, “Your pregnancy now: 13 weeks.” The
first line read: “Fingerprints have now formed on your baby’s tiny fingertips.”
On Thursday morning, I held his hand on my own fingertip. We could see that
every miniscule bone and joint was present, and we reveled in the completeness
of his long fingers down to his unbelievably small, but beautiful, fingernails.
I contemplate the verse, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain
a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90: 12 NIV). I thank God that this child’s days
reached a number that allowed us to see so clearly how fearfully and
wonderfully he was made.

And I was struck by the way in which that love is itself embodied.
It moved through the arms of my husband who so literally held me up when I
could not stand myself. It allowed me to embrace my sons, and
comfort them as they cried, indeed wept, for the life they had hoped and
planned to live with this little brother.

It came through the voices and words of our family and
friends as we received calls and messages while we made our way through a very
long, hard day at the hospital. It came earlier through our Pastor as he
arrived at our home within minutes of our call, with a prayer, “Lord, have mercy,”
and watched our children as we left for the emergency room. It came through
everyone who loved and cared for our boys that day before they even knew
what had happened. It has come through pained smiles and big hugs. It has come
through meals that provide needed sustenance. It has come through those who
have sat and listened to me tell my story, most likely in too much detail, as I
tried to make sense of it all. It has most certainly come through the hands
that have prayed for us. It has even come through the certain, trustworthy love
of friends and family who did not know that we were expecting a child. Some of
you may think that you have done nothing; but joined together it makes nothing
less than the body of Christ.

Powerful words. Powerful pain and powerful comfort.

I send my love to all of you, my friends losing their home, my friends that lost a child and to the rest of you that are dealing with sorrows.

All my love and my sorrow, my sorrow that it is YOUR sorrows enabling me see my life more clearly.

Perspective. Always there.

7 thoughts on “Perspective Through Sorrow”

  1. You know, as much as I’m fairly agnostic, when I was growing up, and would hear “the body of Christ” it would always freak me out. However, I eventually decided that what was meant, what was REALLY MEANT by that phrase was not the literal “body” (“some of his disciples were thick and ordinary” — John Lennon) but more of a, if you will, body politic. I’ve often said that whether Christ himself was immortal — that question is irrelevant to me because whether or not he was the Son of God does not make his teachings any less relevant. So when people come together to support and love and send healing thoughts for somebody, that is a “body.” I know I’m rambing here, because I too am often jealous of the faith that goes with a more literal interpretation, (it’s so much easier, isn’t it?) but the true spirituality underneath it all is something we all possess.

    Reply

  2. I had to put down my 2 year old kitty unexpectedly this weekend. I know it doesn’t compare to the angst and sorry your other friends are dealing with. Our situation occurred without forewarning and happened incredibly quickly…another reminder of how fickle “life as we know it” can be. Perspective is the gift of seeing a situation or even life itself from another angle or through anothers eyes. Perspective is always a good thing to have or even get a fresh batch of on occassion.
    Perspective provides us the great opportunity to provide both empathy and sympathy…something the world could use a whole lot more of.

    Reply

  6. Hi Cynthia, Having cried when I read this post, I have to admit also that I get a kick out of how you started with, “Good Lord”. I don’t know why that just made me laugh today. As a former Catholic, I still say Jesus, Mary and Joseph! when I’m really pushed, or Christ Almighty! or even, Jesus Wept! on special occasions. Somehow these are better for certain things than a good four letter word, which, I’m afraid I also employ a lot. And btw, I LOVE the drawing of the mower you posted, and the, what are those, fumes from the engine? Splendid.

    Reply

Thoughts?

cynthia at the sandwich life Friends, Me

Perspective Through Sorrow

Good Lord but life puts things into perspective for you.  And you certainly don't need to look far….

Yesterday I read another moving post by a friend of mine who is losing her house to foreclosure. O.k., I suppose she's not really a friend but she is a facebook friend, the wife of an old friend of ours–himself someone we didn't really know THAT well but felt attached to….do you know what I mean? Since becoming friends on facebook I have become a fan of her writing and know her through that intimacy–which is powerful as her writing is so very, very intimate. So these friends, who are distant in some ways, but not in others, are struggling with the loss of a beloved home, the loss of income that preceded that and all the reasons for these things. And I am so moved and sad. I look around my rickety little house that is messy and crowded and think how lucky I am. You know….there but for….

Then this morning I had an email from one of my most dearly beloved friends. She just lost her unborn child. A miscarriage….I didn't even know she was pregnant. She said I'd been on her mind and she was ready to send a happy pregnancy announcement to me. The words she wrote to me were so incredibly moving. And I love these people so…the two of them separately and together and their two boys and the family they make which reminds me in many ways of us. She wrote "In my writing I use the language of the body of Christ because it is central to my faith, but I do not mean to impose it on you. It was simply the only shape I could give this experience." And as I read her words I am once again moved by someone's faith. This faith that I don't really understand but respect so deeply. There must be a better word…a mixture of respect and envy and love…I just can't capture it.  She wrote:

On this past Monday, August 27—the same day that we saw our
child alive and seemingly healthy on an ultrasound—I received a generic mass
email, based on my due date, simply titled, “Your pregnancy now: 13 weeks.” The
first line read: “Fingerprints have now formed on your baby’s tiny fingertips.”
On Thursday morning, I held his hand on my own fingertip. We could see that
every miniscule bone and joint was present, and we reveled in the completeness
of his long fingers down to his unbelievably small, but beautiful, fingernails.
I contemplate the verse, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain
a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90: 12 NIV). I thank God that this child’s days
reached a number that allowed us to see so clearly how fearfully and
wonderfully he was made.

And I was struck by the way in which that love is itself embodied.
It moved through the arms of my husband who so literally held me up when I
could not stand myself. It allowed me to embrace my sons, and
comfort them as they cried, indeed wept, for the life they had hoped and
planned to live with this little brother.

It came through the voices and words of our family and
friends as we received calls and messages while we made our way through a very
long, hard day at the hospital. It came earlier through our Pastor as he
arrived at our home within minutes of our call, with a prayer, “Lord, have mercy,”
and watched our children as we left for the emergency room. It came through
everyone who loved and cared for our boys that day before they even knew
what had happened. It has come through pained smiles and big hugs. It has come
through meals that provide needed sustenance. It has come through those who
have sat and listened to me tell my story, most likely in too much detail, as I
tried to make sense of it all. It has most certainly come through the hands
that have prayed for us. It has even come through the certain, trustworthy love
of friends and family who did not know that we were expecting a child. Some of
you may think that you have done nothing; but joined together it makes nothing
less than the body of Christ.

Powerful words. Powerful pain and powerful comfort.

I send my love to all of you, my friends losing their home, my friends that lost a child and to the rest of you that are dealing with sorrows.

All my love and my sorrow, my sorrow that it is YOUR sorrows enabling me see my life more clearly.

Perspective. Always there.

6 thoughts on “Perspective Through Sorrow”

  1. You know, as much as I’m fairly agnostic, when I was growing up, and would hear “the body of Christ” it would always freak me out. However, I eventually decided that what was meant, what was REALLY MEANT by that phrase was not the literal “body” (“some of his disciples were thick and ordinary” — John Lennon) but more of a, if you will, body politic. I’ve often said that whether Christ himself was immortal — that question is irrelevant to me because whether or not he was the Son of God does not make his teachings any less relevant. So when people come together to support and love and send healing thoughts for somebody, that is a “body.” I know I’m rambing here, because I too am often jealous of the faith that goes with a more literal interpretation, (it’s so much easier, isn’t it?) but the true spirituality underneath it all is something we all possess.

    Reply

  2. I had to put down my 2 year old kitty unexpectedly this weekend. I know it doesn’t compare to the angst and sorry your other friends are dealing with. Our situation occurred without forewarning and happened incredibly quickly…another reminder of how fickle “life as we know it” can be. Perspective is the gift of seeing a situation or even life itself from another angle or through anothers eyes. Perspective is always a good thing to have or even get a fresh batch of on occassion.
    Perspective provides us the great opportunity to provide both empathy and sympathy…something the world could use a whole lot more of.

    Reply

  5. Last week, a tiny black kitten crawled to our porch early in the morning. By noon, it had died, despite all we could do for it. It’s not the same as these other losses, but it still left a hole in our hearts.

    Reply

Thoughts?