Friday, January 18, 2013


Two days ago, January 16, 2013, was a bittersweet day. This day I celebrated eight years of marriage to my closest and most trusted friend. I do not have words enough to express the debt of gratitude that I have for this man who has walked with me through the best and the worst days of my life so far. He has celebrated me in my victories, he has carried me in my brokenness and he has laughed and cried with me through both joy and sorrow. He is my beloved and my friend.

This day also marked six months since we lost our youngest son, Hudson. We had waited so long and eagerly for his arrival, and after so much heart ache, he seemed to be the silver lining to storms we had faced. I will forever be haunted by the memory of the day we lost him.

Needless to say, the last few days have been emotional. But I am thankful for the steadfast love of the Lord. He has held us and drawn us into such rich fellowship with Himself in the past months. He has blessed us abundantly. I am thankful for the family he has placed around us. I am thankful to our many friends, both new and old who have loved us and blessed us in the last six months. I want to take this opportunity to publicly say thank you for your love. I won't mention names, but each of you know who you are. Thank you for being our friends. Thank you for your timely words of encouragement. Thank you for the letters and the phone calls and the skype conversations. Thank you for inviting me and my kids over to play. Thank you for meeting us at the park or the beach. Thank you for collecting my kids from school those times I have been held up at the doctor. Thank you for seeking me out and asking me to sing songs of worship to our good and kind Heavenly Father with you.

I wanted to share a poem that has been a comfort to me over the years, but especially over the last months. I know many of you have seen it before, but I hope it may encourage you again.

Sorrow was beautiful, but her beauty was the beauty of the moonlight
shining through the leafy branches of the trees in the wood, and making little pools of silver here and there in the soft green moss below.

When Sorrow sang, her notes were like the low sweet call of the nightingale, and in her eyes was the unexpectant gaze of one who has ceased to look for coming gladness. She could weep in tender sympathy with those who weep, but to rejoice with those who rejoice was unknown to her. 

Joy was beautiful too, but his was the radiant beauty of the summer morning. His eyes still held the glad laughter of childhood, and his hair had the glint of the sunshine's kiss. When Joy sang his voice soared upward as the lark's, and his step was the step of a conqueror who has never known defeat. He could rejoice with all who rejoice, but to weep with those who weep was unknown to him.

"But we can never be united," said Sorrow wistfully.
"No, never." And Joy's eyes shadowed as he spoke. "My path lies through the sunlit meadows, the sweetest roses bloom for my gathering, and the blackbirds and thrushes await my coming to pour forth their most joyous lays."

"My path," said Sorrow, turning slowly away, "leads through the darkening woods; with moonflowers only shall my hands be filled. Yet the sweetest of all earth songs - the love song of the night - shall be mine; farewell, Joy, farewell."

Even as she spoke they became conscious of a form standing beside them; dimly seen, but of kingly presence, and a great and holy awe stole over them as they sank on their knees before Him.

"I see Him as the King of Joy," whispered Sorrow, "for on His head are many crowns, and the nailprints in His hands and feet are the scars of a great victory. Before Him all my sorrow is melting away into deathless love and gladness, and I give myself to Him forever."

"Nay, Sorrow," said Joy softly, "but I see Him as the King of Sorrow, and the crown on His head is a crown of thorns, and the nailprints in His hands and feet are the scars of great agony. I too, give myself to Him forever, for sorrow with Him must be sweeter than any joy I have ever known."

"Then we are one in Him," they cried in gladness, "for none but He could unite Joy and Sorrow."

Hand in hand they passed out into the world to follow Him through storm and sunshine, in the bleakness of winter cold and the warmth of summer gladness, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing.

[From Streams in the Desert, by Mrs. E Cowman (1999), p. 316-318.]

Friends and family, thank you. I love you.