In Sorrow

I’m home alone again tonight, and I’ve been wrestling with my complaints. I think I may have just won: a moment of peace in a world of confusion. But I’ll chalk it up as a victory, nonetheless.

I hate admitting to all that whirls around in my mind, but it’s therapeutic in a way—seeing my naked words lying on the blank page. Self acceptance is beautiful; directed change is divine.

Tonight my mind was running laps around the med school trench: loathing the schedule; aching for more time with the husband; festering with bitterness on behalf of our kids, who need their daddy; and shoving away inklings of jealousy—wishing that I were the one learning to save lives rather than doing (or not doing) the dishes. It is what it is, and tonight it was hard to imagine that it will ever be different.

We dream in ideals and sometimes it’s sort of foolish. An 8-5 schedule won’t make life more manageable, a house that is more than 650 square feet certainly won’t be easier to keep, and being a parent will only get scarier as my kids get older. When I was young I thought that life would be easier “if” and “when.” Sometimes I still do. How silly of me.

I got wrapped up in reading and rereading about Adam and Eve tonight. It helped me gain my footing—steadied my perspective. God told Eve that “in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children,” and said to Adam that, “cursed shall be the ground for thy sake; in sorrow thou shalt eat of it all the days of thy life.” The ground was cursed for his sake, and Eve was told that it would be sorrowful to bring forth children. It’s supposed to be this way—for our sake. Adam said, “Blessed be the name of God, for because of my transgression my eyes are opened, and in this life I shall have joy, and again in the flesh I shall see God.”

It hurts to stretch. It’s hard to grow. It hurts even more and is even more difficult to help my children do the same. This is life. There is joy and there is sorrow: the greater the sorrow, the sweeter the joy. And it is so sweet.