Journey 27: Come Again

Once I took her companionship for granted. Interspersed throughout my days I drank deeply from her cup as she offered satisfying gulps of life, laughter and love all swirled together in an exuberant mixture of delight. I rarely gave her a nod of approval, always expecting her presence, naïve woman that I was, hardly knowing that joy can be robbed and held for ransom despite all my desperate cries for her return.
She flew through the doorway as death sauntered in and cruelly snatched my darling child away. I knew no more the sweetness of her friendship, for sorrow moved in, unpacked her bags and made comments that she had come to stay and thank you very much but joy could no longer abide under the same roof alongside her. Joy hoisted her skirt and fled, this gentle, exuberant member of my household. She withdrew and left me struggling to breathe in grief’s gigantic embrace; the door banged shut, and I shuddered, numbness like ice freezing over the marrow in my bones took control. Darkness drew the curtains and heavy bolts blocked the entranceway.
On occasion, when I strained against the clamor all around me, when I forced myself to listen for her voice, I could recall distinctly that she had effortlessly blown confusion away, filling every corner with magnificent splendor. Where was she now? Would I never know the soothing comfort of her arms linked through mine again?
Timidly, she knocked once, but bolted away before I could even pry the lock open. Sometimes I caught a brief glimpse of her as she scampered past, but I suppose she hardly recognized me, my face shrouded with sorrow’s blackened veil. Though I strained at the window pane for another glimpse, hungry eyes peering into the places where I had always seen her beauty, she eluded me and time wandered by.
Gradually, when I least expected her return, she quietly tiptoed up the pathway, wearing a simple frock of muslin embroidered with pale, miniature flowers. Fastened to her bosom was a delicate, translucent brooch fashioned from a tear-shaped gem. Sorrow glanced at Joy’s appearance and recognized she must begin to pack up her belongings. The process was slow, hauntingly slow. Joy waited patiently, neither prodding nor pleading for her departure.
When days and weeks slipped past six seasons, I finally begged Joy to reenter and replace sorrow’s worn-out presence. Joy came wrapped in simplicity with a gentle smile on her face, her eyes peeling back the dreary light. Timidly, she unfastened the darkened drapes and with the sunshine creeping in she courageously unlocked the shutters and let the clear air filter through the house again.
I recognized her presence as I gathered with three friends to read stories poured out from our hearts’ pens and laugh at our simple attempts to display what our souls knew so well. I saw her form as I raced about my duties, no longer feeling the cumbersome weight of sorrow’s wretched cloak. I heard her laughter in the voices of my children and saw her passion on the face of my spouse. I felt her presence as I made ready for our son’s wedding, baking and painting and organizing, never once sensing this new load as burdensome. I knew her companionship as I tucked myself on the couch and opened the Scriptures and saw fresh, new pictures of my Father’s grace. I serenaded her as I walked in the early morning light and lifted my voice to praise my Creator who does all things well and everything in his time.
I held out my hand and she returned my grasp as I remembered the days gone by and looked ahead to the brilliant sparkle of light in the distance. Oh Joy, travel with me still. Leave not my side. Though sorrow will yet press her face to mine, let hers be a fleeting touch and yours a permanent stride.