Yesterday I was so happy to find the time to attend Wednesday Mass with the Visitation Sisters at their house in North Minneapolis. Since moving in with my mom 3 months ago to help out after my dad died, I have greatly missed being just a walk away from the daily rituals at the Monastery. Of course I was greeted with excitement and warmth, and the Sisters expressed their joy with me for my upcoming wedding and told me they are always praying for my fiancé Patrick and I. Mass began and when we reached the prayers of intention Sister Mary Karen prayed aloud for our marriage this weekend and in thanksgiving to God for Patrick and I's meeting and union. As I sat there and held that prayer close to my heart I was struck by the fact that earlier this year I sat in that very spot during Wednesday Mass and listened to Sister Mary Karen pray for me, but that time I had tears streaming down my face as she mourned with me for the death of my father, thanked the Lord for the gift of his funeral, and asked for healing in my heart and comfort for the sadness.
How can the same year hold the saddest day of my life and the happiest? That is a question I have been asking myself, and one I have pondered over as I have prepared for our wedding day. I know that in two short days I am going to walk down the aisle to the man of my dreams, the man who sat with me as my dad breathed his last breath, the man who has swept me off my feet, the man who loves me and cherishes me. I anticipate that moment to be full of incredible emotions. I will carry a small photo on my bouquet of my dad and I, the front will be of him holding me as a baby and the back will be of us on a beach 8 years ago. That is where joy and sorrow crash together in a holy sort of harmony.
This winter was so long. It felt like it was going to go on forever. I felt like I was going to be sad forever. But then as spring came, slowly there were glimpses of green, flashes of warmth. With each warmer day, and more green on the trees, I was continually surprised. I was surprised by the flowers, the birds, the splay of color across the landscape. The funny thing to me is that I know that after winter comes the spring. The death of the winter will gradually lift as new life emerges all around. It always happens! Yet each morning I was surprised as I went outside and witnessed the birth of nature all around me. God is a beautiful, creative God.
Easter came. Easter always feels like spring's triumphant entry to me, bursting forth to mirror the glory of the Resurrection of Christ. The plants proclaim "I was dead but now I am alive! I am bright, I am shining, I am producing fruit!" On Easter we rejoice that Christ has risen, that death isn't our story but new life is. The eternal Kingdom of God is our new song, the Risen Christ is our Hope. However, there couldn't be a resurrection without death, and I learned this year through the wisdom of others that I do need to press into the crucifixion in order to experience the Resurrection.
So I prayed. I said, "Lord, help me to grieve. Be with me as I mourn. Give me the strength not to run away from the sorrow." That is hard work! I don't want to feel sad and I don't want to cry so much. I am taken aback by the flashflood of tears that can come at any moment. I miss my dad! He should be here. I want him to be with me on my wedding day. I want him to dance with me. So here is where I sit, in the middle of joy and sorrow. There is a deep sadness in my heart without my dad here to celebrate and cry and rejoice with me, but it is not a sting-it is an space that I am allowing to be there, and I am choosing to see as a gift. The rest of my heart is filled to the brim with excitement, with joy, with peace, with an incredible love that I didn't know existed, and even though I don't always think I have the capacity to hold this joy and sorrow together in the same space, God provides the grace and strength for it and it turns out I do.
I know that the Lord will certainly be with me as I journey towards Patrick down the aisle and into our lives together, and I know that my dad would be so happy and he would cry and he would kiss me and he would say "I love you, baby." I cry as I write that. Sorrow. Yet, I think of Patrick's face and standing before him as we commit our lives to one another and all the times he's whispered in my ear "I love you, baby." I smile as I write that. Joy.
I serve a big God and a loving God. I am so thankful to have been given the gift of love through my dad, and now be given the gift of a different kind of love through Patrick. I know there will be more in this life that brings sorrow, but I have hope in the fact that spring always comes. It certainly doesn't take away from the harshness of winter, but it makes it fall a little softer. I am clinging to the hope in new life-new life in me through each journey of sorrow and joy, and eventually the new life that Jesus promises us on earth. That is more than enough for this bride-to-be.
