Joining Me

On my last post, I talked about a peaceful feeling. I believe I said that I felt like I would never fear life's monsters again.... like that EFY feeling: "I WILL NEVER SIN AGAIN!" (I wouldn't actually know. I never went to EFY. But this is what I saw from my friends who came back from it.)

Yeah. Well, that was nice... I don't remember what that feels like anymore. But reading about it, I'm sure it was an amazing feeling.

That felt like a fun size candybar now. "That was it? Isn't there any more in here?" I'm licking the shiny little wrapper... I agree with Tim Hawkins, "Fun size? That ain't 'fun!' Why don't you get a whole bag of snickers and make it into a big snickers loaf! Give me a Snickaloaf!" That fun size snickers still tastes just as good as a snickaloaf, it just didn't last as long as I was hoping. The experience of elation was wonderful, but I really was hoping for more than one day of it to linger. I tried so hard to hold onto it! I tried to let it melt away slowly in my heart, just like I do with Dove chocolate. I tried really hard to get the feeling back, but it was like I couldn't get the wrapper off. Perhaps it's better this way, I wouldn't want an emotional tummy ache now would I?

I read another friends blog. She talked about having a hard time with things, again, suddenly. She said, "grief comes in waves."

Ain't that the truth.

Where's the lifegard... Cause here she blows!


She talked about her personal ammendment to a quote that was on the back of the program from Carmody's funeral. "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." She said it might be better to say, "Cry becaus it's over, AND smile because it happened." She talked about what Dr. Adams (my RA professor) said about sadness. He says tears and sadness are okay. "It is healing to sit with an emotion, experience it, and let it run its course." I commented on her blog, but I wanted to reflect a little more on the thoughts that came to me while I was writing to her:

Men are that they might have joy. But to me, Joy means that I find meaning and truly LIVE in the moment. Even the sad ones.

I think I can have Joy in deep waves of sorrow. And even when I can't find that joy, hopefully I still have hope that joy (meaningfulness) will come eventually. And even when I lose that, that is when Christ "sits with an emotion, experiences it, and lets it run its course" WITH me.

When I stop fighting, or when I'm too exhausted to fight the pain, and I just have to feel it, I feel Him there, that creates the meaningfulness, and I feel joy from my despair. Life is a million little paradoxes isn't it? And you'd think I'd learn to stop fighting it every time... yeah... nope.

"Sitting with it" always reminds me of the movie, "What dreams may come." Don't watch it when you're depressed. But watch it if you'd like permission to just cry (you know those movies you watch when you just want a good cry...) In the movie, no attempts to convince the wife to leave Hell and go to heaven worked. Whenever Robin tried, she seemed to get further and further away. She didn't even recognize him or relate to him in any way. She felt she belonged there with all the greif and loss she suffered. She felt guilt she never "got over it." But, the moment that Robin Williams simply joined her in Hell, she suddenly experienced Heaven and they both transport there in that moment.

That is what Christ does for us. That is how he redeems us. He doesn't try to talk us out of our personal hell, He joins us in our Hell through access to that night He shed a thousand drops of precious blood for me, and for you. That night He experienced my personal pains and sorrows and fears and loneliness. And He CHOSE to be there with me in those moments, just because He loves me. TRULY LOVES ME. And experiencing a relationship like that transports us to a Heavenly state of heart. Though we, in our personal feelings of hell, may not recognize Christ at all. We may feel He has forsaken us. But He joins us where we're at, and suddenly, we remember who He is and who we are. We remember and believe in those moments where Children of God belong. Maybe... Maybe that's how healing works? Maybe when we see someone in pain, the most powerful and life-changing thing we can do for them, is join them.

In discussing this idea with a counselor from my freshman ward bishopric, his worry was that we would get stuck in the yuckiness and get caught up in the despair. But, in my experience, as soon as I really join someone, the whole dynamic changes and hope enters the person without me even summoning it.

What do you think?