I sit quietly. The warm wind gusts in fits and starts, like the ache in my heart. Some days, I can barely recollect the pain. Other days, as I open my eyes in the early morning, it’s still hard to breathe. I can never tell when the winds of sorrow are going to blow. They come from out of nowhere and leave as quickly as they came, unannounced.
Birds sing in the branches. Some days, their song reminds me of being a carefree little girl, running through the shallow water of Georgian Bay. Today, they remind me of The Thornbirds. That was my mother’s favourite story when I was young. I never realized how sad it was until I was older. The story’s title refers to a mythical bird who, from the moment it hatches, seeks out a tree branch with the perfect thorn. When it finds the thorn, it impales itself, and sings the most beautiful song that can be heard, as it dies.
Like I said, sad story. It would have probably given me some pretty good insight into my mother’s heart, had I been old enough to understand.
There’s some truth to it, though. Although I tend to believe in happy endings. I think the most beautiful life-songs I have heard have risen in the wake of tragedy. Not every painful event ends in something redemptive—not at all. But some do. That has been the case for me.
A group of distant cousins sit around a fire-lit room. They haven’t seen each other since they were kids, but their grandfather’s passing has brought them back together. Friendships are reforged and foundational memories are reminisced. Life from death.
A mother and father prepare to bury their first born daughter. They kiss her silent temple for the last time here on earth. Their ribs strain to hold their broken hearts together. Old friends come close. The frivolity of yesterday’s worries are exposed. And, after a little while, like a torn muscle, their hearts begin to heal and form something bigger than they were before. Capable of deeper love, greater understanding, and dreams that never would have found a place there.
Sometimes, I find it difficult to understand God, and why he allows some of the pain all around us. As a mother, my instinct is to protect my children from all harm. I want them to live a life without pain.
But when I think about it, there is something I want for them even more. I want them to live a life without fear. And I want them to live a life absorbed in love. Sometimes, the only way for us to get there—to that fearless, love-filled place—is to go through suffering. It breaks away the trivial things the world has pasted to our souls. It loosens our grip on the demands we’ve made of life. And it ushers in a new way of living, like the birth of a child.
Joy Kenney says
July 17, 2014 at 7:00 pmBeautifully written Jan. I was thinking and praying for you yesterday. *Hugs*
Darren says
July 17, 2014 at 7:43 pmBeautiful…so wonderful when you write straight from the heart! ❤️You!
Tamara Sargeant says
July 17, 2014 at 8:13 pmJanna – Your words are such a sweet sound to my ears. I feel as if I can actually see into your soul when you write. Incredible! Thank you for being so ‘raw’, vulnerable and willing to share your pain with others. I thought of losing my own mom when I read this as I related to much of what you wrote. And yet, with tears streaming down my face, I praised my Savior. You have given me a wonderful perspective to hold onto.
Julie Williams says
July 17, 2014 at 10:46 pmBeautiful Sis!! You were definitely in my heart yesterday!! Love you!!
Carla Jackson says
July 18, 2014 at 12:33 am*Tears!
Sharon Ross says
July 18, 2014 at 3:08 pmI have been thinking of you all week. I have no words…… Yours say it all with poignant beauty. I love you.
Janna says
July 18, 2014 at 6:21 pmThank you all for your kind words and encouragement. The friends and family the Father has put around me, hold me up with kindness. I am immeasurably blessed.
xo
Janna says
July 18, 2014 at 6:23 pmP.S. This pic was taken by Shawna Medwedyk (http://shawnacreates.com/)
Ahren Summach says
July 24, 2014 at 1:20 pmI remember it all well… from the moment the phone rang, thru the agony of those moments in the hospital, the gathering of the family and finaly laying your sweet beautiful babe to rest. I remember your grace in sorrow and the assuring comfort of the suffering Savior throughout. I remember the voices we held in tension… “a voice in Rama weeping” and the voice of Jesus whispering “let the little child come to me”. Sadness and hope in the same breath.
God bless you and Paul. What could have embittered you has grown you. You have suffered… well. Here’s to the final hope of God’s new creation and the resurrection still to come.
Much love to you.
Ahren & Anna
Janna says
July 24, 2014 at 2:13 pmThanks, guys. I remember your support especially, and just as clearly. *tear*
xo
Kelley Sykes says
March 12, 2015 at 11:51 pmHi Janna. My husband & I live in Stratford, Ontario. The connection to you, for us is this…I recall your husband Paul, mentioning that he was in a band (on one of his ‘Decked Out’ episodes). We looked him up and were so pleasantly surprised with what we saw and heard! We recognized Joey but then were equally pleased when we learned his very lovely wife was also a part of the band.
My greatest sigh came when I discovered your website/blog and read so much of what is in my heart. Thank you for reminding me of what is in my faithful heart! I am an artist. Acrylic is my medium. My studio is a place where time means nothing and I love that. My heart and faith also leads me to poetry and prose. I have a collection of poems that have been a journey for me. I’d like to share this one with you with our prayers…
“Crying may last for a night. But Joy comes in the morning.” – Psalm 30:5
Our Lord has given another angel their wings to fly.
As he receives his newest angel into his arms, he gently cups their face in his hands to wipe their tears….Tenderly…Lovingly.
Then he wraps his newest angel up into an enormous, loving and gentle embrace.
As our Father dries his own tears, he whispers in his child’s ear.
“Welcome home. I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I offer this to you, to Paul and to your family with our prayers. God Bless.
Janna says
March 13, 2015 at 2:43 pmThanks, Kelley, for reaching out and for sharing this poem with us. The joy does come, doesn’t it? Many blessings to you and your family as you continue on this adventure with Him!
J.