I’m not going to lie, finding “me” time was already difficult before COVID-19. When the kids were in school, I was “just” juggling their school, bus, after school activities, while … Continue reading Finding Time for Me in the Age of COVID-19
Category: joy
My Two Hands
I have two hands Of my very own Both are strong Able to lift and squeeze And both are weak Too soft to do all That they need. Yet they … Continue reading My Two Hands
The Little Things
There are so many little things that roll together into a ball that make life joyful. So, here are just a few of the little things that brightened my day: … Continue reading The Little Things
Reading Dreams
I am forever grateful to my big sis, the one and only The Monster in Your Closet, for constantly inspiring me to do the things I love and to be a better person. And, for letting me be a guest author on her Prescribing Joy series. Check it out! Prescribing Joy: Reading Dreams – http://wp.me/p1kMtx-6u5
Horrors Pass
My children laughed They played and giggled Took turns Hugged and Kissed each other’s scraped knees And I Held my bated breath Waiting For the first fist to fall The … Continue reading Horrors Pass
On Sorrow
So, I have already informed most of ya’ll that I was a pretty morbid, or even “emo” kid. Among the treasury of poems I memorized, in addition to “Too Late” which I already discussed in my post, A Grieving Love, was the following poem by Robert Browning Hamilton:
“I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.”
My young life felt full of sorrow, to be fair, and I felt my hardships made me wiser than my more joyful, carefree classmates. I read at an advanced level (although my fear of tests made me score poorly), I hated the nonsense most kids talked about, and I felt like I never fit in. So this poem spoke to me for many, many years. I often felt that joy was cheap and meaningless. That in order for something to actually carry substance, it had to be touched by grief, touched by sorrow.
Recently, I have really been re-evaluating my worldview, something I will probably always do, and I’ve really been re-examining this poem. I believe grief has helped forge me into the sympathetic, forgiving, if flawed person I am today. I will always be grateful for that. There will be times I walk with sorrow later on, grief that will come and will show me how much more I have to learn from Her, but should I live walking constantly in Her shadow? Should I feel every person’s heartbreak, see the sadness in every person’s step, and live my life engulfed in a protective blanket of sorrow? Probably not. Have I lived like that for some time? No, but this thought has niggled at my mind whenever I feel myself laughing too loudly or reveling in just how blessed I am.
So, with those thoughts in mind, I wrote the following poem:
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| This photo is copyrighted by Cole Thompson. Permission to use the photo was granted by the artist – please visit Cole Thompson Photography and Cole Thompson Photography Blog to learn and see more of his creative work. |
We all carry burdens, but joy is so precious when it is here – what is the harm in allowing it in? There’s nothing to fear from laughing with abandon, and there is no sense in worrying that you may seem foolish. What is a fool, anyway?
May happiness follow you all everywhere, on whatever journey you take.
-The Rambler
R.R. Wolfgang 