The Merriam-Webster definition of “joy” is “a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.” I’ve been pondering the idea of joy a lot lately because I feel like much of it was sucked out of me when my mom passed away in February. I’d always considered myself involuntarily joyful. I’ve had little to not rejoice about in my life.
I was the fourth and final child in the Chandler family; the only girl. I loved the princess position I was born into. My brothers were all kind (even adoring) towards me growing up (most days). My mom and I were best buds. I was my dad’s only daughter. I can’t think up a better upbringing.
I found something I was good at early on. I excelled in summer league swimming and continued to improve rapidly when I started club swimming at age 12. Swimming fed my confidence.
I found every 6-foot-1 woman’s dreamboat in college– a 6-foot-8 dapper dude who shared my passion for swimming. He proposed. I watched him win Olympic medals. We got married; had a perfectly beautiful baby girl.
Why in the world would I not be joyful? Mom used to call me Miss Merry Sunshine. She saw my joy as innate. I don’t know that I ever thought much about it…it was just there. I delighted in life because my life was delightful.
Blips in my joy came with my mom’s Parkinson’s diagnosis, then years later, a cancer diagnosis.
In my grief, even while Mom was alive, I’ve personified Parkinson’s and Cancer. I hate these beings. I still scream “F you” in my head when I think of these evil creatures infecting my precious friend.
Tim Keller has preached on suffering many times, and reminded us modern Americans that suffering has never been as shocking to any culture as it is to ours. We are a culture of justice. Of rightness. Of kindness. We don’t anticipate suffering or prepare for it. It always seems traumatic…
I’m mentally jarred and don’t know when the reality of our loss will sink in fully. A big part of me doesn’t want it to. I’d like to go on thinking Mom is just taking a nap.
1 Peter 4:12 says, “Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials you are going through, as if something strange were happening to you.” Peter reminds us that fiery trials aren’t strange…they’re part of life. They’re the inevitable refining fire.
Most days I struggle to see how losing my mom is beneficial in any way. But most days, I’m not thinking about her; I’m thinking about me.
Last October, I vented to my mom about how unfair her poor health was. I hated her suffering. She looked me firmly in the eyes and said, “Annie– either God’s real or He isn’t. Either He has this or He doesn’t.”
As I read Elisabeth Elliot’s words after Mom’s death, I heard my mom echoing in my head:
“God lets this awful thing happen to me. What looked like a contradiction in terms, I had to leave in God’s hands and say okay, Lord. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. But I only had two choices. He is either God or He’s not. I am either held in Everlasting Arms or I’m at the mercy of chance. I have to trust Him or deny Him. Is there any middle ground. I don’t think so.”
I don’t know if you can come to that hard line realization unless you’re in the furnace. My mom was there. She hated her diseases as much as her family did, but she accepted them. And she accepted that she was held in Everlasting Arms…and is more than ever before right now.
Mom had hard days, but had the acute joy Paul Brand talks of below some days. Brand, a missionary surgeon to India, wrote in his book The Gift of Pain:
I have come to see that pain and pleasure come to us not as opposites but as Siamese twins, strangely joined and intertwined. Nearly all my memories of acute happiness, in fact, involve some element of pain or struggle.
The most physical pain I’ve ever felt in my life was while giving birth. My struggle wasn’t long, but I legitimately thought I might die. There was no time for an epidural so I gave birth without the drugs I had planned for. I went from panic, to acceptance, to extreme physical discomfort, to determination, then utter bliss and trembling. That’s my best example of pain intertwined with ecstasy.
I don’t know if a loved one’s death will ever lead to acute happiness…unless we’re thinking about where they land after the struggle. In Everlasting Arms. Perhaps our earthly lives are the longest, most painful birthing processes leading to our ultimately landing in the eternal embrace of our Creator.
My quest for sturdier joy is ongoing. I know lasting joy cannot be found in being the princess of your family, getting married to a Hercules, experiencing heaps of athletic success, or having the most wonderful mother. No, joy needs a much deeper well to draw from.
“Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
John 4:13–14
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Annie,
You don’t know me, but I wanted to reach out after I came across this via Twitter. My Dad passed away last October after a six year cancer battle. I identify with much of what you have written (here and another post). It is a fundamental shift in oneself. I find I have more empathy as well. For those who have lost, as well as those who don’t understand loss on the same levels. Two brief things I’ve found:
1) I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. Even when I feel like everything is falling apart.
2) It is ok to cry about the most random or small things that trigger warm (or painful) memories. (For me it’s those honeybear squeeze bottles.)
All my sympathies to you and your family.
“I believe in the top of the mountain even when I can’t see it.”
Healing After Loss (Martha W. Hickman)
Author
Ah, wow. Amen to this: “…more empathy as well. For those who have lost, as well as those who don’t understand loss on the same levels.” I’m very sorry to hear of your loss, Jennifer. Sounds like your dad fought valiantly. Cancer is a beast that reminds me this world is so far from paradise. All my love.
So poignant and beautifully put. Lost my mom 11-11-18. She was 91. She outlived my dad by 40 years. I’m so sorry for your mom’s early departure. That makes it even harder. ❤️
Hi Annie,
I’m sorry for what you are going through right now. Sending prayers of comfort to you! This was such a beautifully written post.
Take care!!
Pain is real, but your expression of feeling, losing and looking again for joy is beautiful and so relatable ! My 19 year old daughter lost her life on the Cal Poly Campus in 1996 , while the perpetrator walks free, she has never been found! Yet, to honor her, we have to find joy to celebrate her, not always easy…….but we are responsible for finding and sharing happiness! We do this for us and to honor our lost loved ones!
Oh Annie, how proud I am of you! You had Supermom and you are truly tramping through this thing called grief, and you are doing it so well! You are helping others who are going through the same thing. You are certainly helping your sweet Daddy and you are helping people who read your articles. Maybe they don’t understand your feelings because they have not been through what you have yet, but just maybe a phrase or two will come back to them when they need it most. By helping others, we help ourselves. So tramp on throu this mud of grief and remember that i’m praying for you and I love you!
Author
Appreciate your encouragement, Paula. I know everyone goes through grief differently, but yes, if anyone can relate and be comforted by my thoughts, that’s a huge blessing. You are a ray of sunshine and I’m so glad I got to see you last month. Love you too, Mrs. Sturm. xoxo.
To Love is to have pain mixed with joy. I have en-Joyed the beautiful and contagious smiles of you and your daughter that does seem to be just there, always. But I know it is not, but it is your easy nature and it reminds me immediately of your mom and her always there loving smile.
You both know how to live life. And you also know this is not our home, but joy we have yet to know is to come. And it will be together once again. I love your writings and love you share your deep feelings so well and want to share. This is one reason God allows us pain, to help others deal with theirs. Thanks Annie, you do it so well and mom is so proud, and dad too, we all are.
Author
Thank you, Mrs. Harding. My parents have always raved about the Hardings, so I loved you long before I met you. If there’s anything about my nature that reflects my mama, I’m grateful.
The difference between joy and happiness. Happiness is based on what happens, joy is ever present (although sometimes we are so low we doubt it ever existed at all).
Your mom said she found joy in you, the lady who knows you best. So it’s there! You wrote this post. Why? Because you have joy in this life and know it has a purpose. You haven’t given up or admitted defeat. You are coping, and at the same time still helping others with your words. To me, that’s joy.
Your analogy of this life being the longest birthing process…woah. From what we believe from the Bible, this is accurate. I hope I can remember that when problems seem completely insurmountable. Everything in life is only for now, and that’s ultimately a good thing.
Author
I like those definitions of joy and happiness, Crystal. Thanks for sharing that wisdom. And additionally, thank you for your encouragement. To be honest, I feel like writing out my emotions is more of a selfish venture but I’m so uplifted that it may help others also in a valley. That does bring me joy.
Well written Annie. I am reading a Tim Keller book called You Can Change. He has a special way of helping take my eyes off me so I can see Him. You are dealing with grief so gracefully. I am reminded each day that this isn’t my home.I am just passing through.If I am finding all my joy here, I would have nothing to look forward to. He constantly keeps me in check so I don’t lose sight of that fact. I love you my sweet Annie❤️
Well written Annie. I am reading a Tim Keller book called You Can Change. He has a special way of helping take my eyes off me so I can see Him. You are dealing with grief so gracefully. I am reminded each day that this isn’t my home.I am just passing through.If I am finding all my joy here, I would have nothing to look forward to. He constantly keeps me in check so I don’t lose sight of that fact. I love you my sweet Annie❤️
Oops Tim Chester, not Tim Keller🤭
Ah, Annie, your beautiful mom left a sweet trail of shining stars behind her, stars ablaze to illuminate the paths of fellow sufferers along the dark roads of this life. Keep letting that light shine! It honors your mom, but even better, it honors her, and your, Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, Light of the World! Would that all could rest in those everlasting arms.