We are a family who loves to ask questions. Ever since our kids stumbled upon the magic of “why”, we have been asking and answering questions. Sometimes we use questions as a way to prolong our time around the table. To keep little bottoms in their chairs for just a few minutes longer. The other night the question was “What fruit of the Spirit does each member of the family most often exhibit?” Most of us garnered mixed reviews but when it came to my little woman, there was a resounding chorus of “Joy!”
Being a joyful person might seem like the greatest blessing God could bestow on a soul, especially from the perspective of a Oscar-the-Grouch spirit such as myself. But having lived with and parented the bubbling brook of happiness that is my daughter for eight years now, I have come to realize that, like all things, there is a flip-side to deep joy. The other side of her precious joy coin is sorrow.
Because Maggie loves life and those around her with an almost strangling passion, she feels loss so much more deeply than others. Trying to get her to dispose of anything, and I mean anything, is tortuous for us both. “Not the bear so-in-so got me for my fifth birthday!” “Not the plastic and rhinestone ring so-in-so gave me as a party favor!” “Not the one-armed, scuffed up kid’s meal toy I found in the garage can that time!” How many nights, I have rocked her through tears at the loss of one of her treasures? How many hours have I spent stroking away the sorrow that so often seems to shadow great joy?
I am so not like this.I actually love throwing stuff away. It makes me feel lighter, less cluttered in my head. After I spent a gleeful afternoon clearing away mismatched picture frames and knick-knacks, Jim said it looked like we were getting ready to move and I took it as a complement. When I peer into Maggie’s mind, it feels oppressive to me, all those attachments, all those burdens of love and care with which she is burdened. But what is my flip-side? I may be more safe but I am also more alone.
When I see my daughter embracing life to the fullest, running head long into the joy of living, a pang of regret and envy fill all that space I have created. Suddenly that space doesn’t feel a tidy retreat so much as an empty void.I don’t want to feel her sorrow but in trying to avoid it, I am missing out on her joy.
Maggie is a let’s-dump-out-all-the-drawers-and-see-what-we-can-create-and-only-clean-up-when-Mom-makes-us kind of girl, while I am most definitely a-place-for-everything-and-everything-in-it’s-place kind of gal.
I follow my kids around picking up stray socks, cereal bowls and shoes. This approach prevents me from grinding Cheerios into the carpet but when it comes to life, I think I need to loosen up a little. I can’t arrange friends and family and, I don’t know, God just like I arrange the dishes in the dishwasher.
Life keeps wiggling out of my hands, falling behind the couch and popping up again in some seemingly unpredictable way, doing the unexpected. In my mind, unexpected generally translates as “bad and to be avoided.” But I am learning…from my eight year old.
I am trying to let things and people in. To enjoy the moment and try not to think about where things are headed. To let things get a little more messy. To dump out all the drawers and worry about cleaning it up later. You never know what you might find there. Maybe some joy is hiding in the most unexpected of places.
Ah, Crab Apples! 