The Goodness in Our Sadness

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

“If we are wise, we must all confront our sadness, our brokenness, our disappointment. I am quite certain that your portraits help some people, in a very tender and courteous way, to ask themselves, maybe for the first time, 'Who is that person? Your portraits invite people to be alone and quiet and truthful with themselves; to admit the longing and to discover the goodness in their sadness." - Theo of Golden

Before our trip to Costa Rica in March, my friend Mercer handed me a novel to read. It seemed random, but I had a sense that it was going to speak to me in some profound way. It was about a mysterious, elderly man, “Theo,” who moved to a quaint town in Georgia called Golden. He quickly made deep friendships with people of all ages and backgrounds simply by asking questions, listening to their stories, acknowledging their sadness, and reminding them of their worth. His intentionality and generosity began when he noticed a wall of portraits in a coffee shop for sale by a local artist. The old man, Theo, was immediately drawn to studying each of the faces. He noticed the sadness and longing in most of them, and set out on a mission to buy as many as he could. His aim was to meet each of these individuals, and to offer the portrait as a gift and a space to share some of their story if they so desired. He enlisted the help of others to find their owners and began his mission one portrait at a time. It’s a beautiful account of knowing and being known. The reader is reminded through Theo of the power in acknowledging our own stories, especially the sad parts and unmet longings that have shaped who we are.

To have one’s sadness unearthed can be incredibly uncomfortable. It takes courage. We all have parts of our story that we have only viewed as sad or broken. Especially when we are still in it, all we have is the sad view.  We all have unanswered prayers, unmet longings, loss or brokenness at some level. That is part of what it means to be human. But as Christians, we believe God knows what it’s like to be human. He has a higher and deeper view of the sad parts of our stories. And we can grab onto this HOPE, even when all we can see is the “sad view.” Because it is His way to take our sadness and unmet longings and use them to shape us into vessels that can hold something even sweeter.  All we have to do is surrender and stay the course of long-haul trust. This is by no means easy, but it is simple. We must remember that our sadness is not okay with Him. . . quite the opposite. He created us to be whole, healthy beings who know our purpose in the world and who know our standing before God. Jesus’ death and resurrection is proof of that and part of God’s ultimate plan to “make all the sad things come untrue.” His plan is to FULLY restore the earth and our pain one day. But in the meantime, He is intricately working to USE that pain, sorrow, and brokenness for our good. It is never wasted when it is surrendered to Him.

The kingdom of heaven is an entirely different economy than the kingdom of this world.

Last fall, as I was looking out at the huge pine trees in our yard with green grass all around them, the Lord gently spoke to me about taproots. The reason why pine trees can stand so strong and tall without exposing many roots is because they have a large, primary root that grows straight down, holding them up. Usually when God speaks, it’s through scripture, other people, nature, and sometimes a soft voice within my mind that I know is His. Through a combination of these things, I sensed the Lord saying I had a “taproot” of self-protection that I needed to lay down before Him. I had become too good at holding myself up in many ways. I sensed Him saying, “Let Me be the One to hold you up.”

Whether it was learned or innate (probably both),  I have a tendency to think of worst-case scenarios and how to avoid them.  One of my favorite possessions is my personalized first-aid kit complete with a gold zipper and everything I would need to splint a finger, scrape a jellyfish sting, stop bleeding, even superglue a cut. As a child, I remember having a plan for WHEN a tornado would hit the house, how I would get our parrot’s birdcage down the steps into the basement, etc. This tendency to always be thinking ahead of every possible scenario makes me very good at keeping myself and other people safe. As an ocean lifeguard in my 20s, I was trained to notice the signs to prevent a person from active drowning. This meant assessing swimming abilities, the condition of the ocean, and the current. It was much easier to make an “assist” by pulling people out of danger before they got into an active drowning situation. This was a perfect job for my personality and is still useful in my role today running a surf camp. It is of utmost importance to keep people safe in and out of the water. Yet, I felt the Lord saying “stop trying to protect yourself so much.” Self-protection as it pertained to my time, relationships, and heart was stealing the joy out of those things. I began a journey of prayer and releasing ways I knew I was relying on myself to prevent exhaustion, pain and disappointment. If I’m honest, it wasn’t very fun. I think I even felt some shame in the way I operated…always thinking, planning, assessing, preventing.

Fast forward to our trip to Costa Rica this past spring. We went with some friends who are some of our favorite people in the world, but we also joke about how different we can be. I showed up to our second flight a bit perturbed that our family couldn’t sit together on our previous flight and feeling a bit weighed down by all the bags I was carrying. Then up trots my dear friend, fresh curls bouncing, with NOT A SINGLE BAG in her arms. My jaw pretty much dropped with a revelation that it must be a lot more fun to not to have thought about every possible thing one might need…to walk a bit lighter. Maybe I didn’t need to be so prepared and well-packed. Maybe I didn’t need to think of every worst-case scenario and have several back up plans. Maybe I should curl my hair more too…nah.

But back to taproots and the novel I was reading on this trip…There was a bit at the end where Theo, the main character, was telling his friend about the vineyards in Portugal he worked in as a child. He explained, “for four meters and more, the taproots go down and down, weaving between the slate to find water.” The word “taproots” practically jumped off the page at me. It is only because of these taproots that grapevines can grow and thrive, especially in harsh environments. Without the taproots, there would be no fruit. There would be no fruit! I wouldn’t be who I am today without the challenges I’ve faced, without being hard-pressed. While the Lord had me in a season of learning to let Him be the One to hold me up instead of relying on myself so much, He then started speaking to me about the goodness in it. So much fruit has come out of my ability to plan, problem-solve, and protect, to go against the grain and establish boundaries for others to thrive within. The Lord showed me the beauty in that while inviting me to let HIM be the One to do that for me as well. He is so kind.

We wouldn’t be who we are without ALL of the good, bad, and ugly parts of our stories. It’s important to acknowledge ALL parts of ourselves so we can accept them and move on… “to admit the longing and to discover the goodness in their sadness.”

At some point in our lives, we must stop pointing fingers at others and ourselves for all that went wrong and all that could have been. We must stop and take account of our stories. Grieve what is meant to be grieved, rejoice over the beauty and blessings, notice all the ways God provided, the times He seemed silent, etc. And then perhaps surrender to it ALL. Then maybe we can have eyes to see that golden thread woven through all of those parts that have made us into who we are today. Perhaps, through this acceptance and trust that God’s way is to use ALL parts of our stories for our good, even the ugly parts, we can even become…grateful. That’s the holy work of surrender. That’s God’s way. Maybe that’s what the author meant when he described “goodness in their sadness.” Even sadness can become good when it is accepted and surrendered to God. He can then take it, plant it, and allow it to bear much fruit.

I believe it is our duty to heal from our past wounds for the sake the of the next generation. (That is by far the most important parenting advice I have to offer.) But healing often is painful and scary, because we aren’t meant to do it on our own. We heal by looking up to God. He can take the things that look dreadful to us and turn them into our salvation. That’s the way of the cross. It’s easier to stay the same. It’s harder to grow. Growth requires some pain. Acknowledging our wounds, our sorrows, and our unmet longings is uncomfortable. But we are not alone in it.

We can offer hope to the next generation by looking to God and stepping onto the path of healing now. We can invite others to do the same by listening to their stories and reminding them of their worth. Our pain matters to God. Sure, gurus, counselors, retreats, and meds can ease it for a time. But it’s only when we look to the One who calls Himself Healer, Counselor, Mighty God that we can truly be healed and truly be free. He is the One who is holding us up anyway. He is the One who makes our steps lighter.

I admit that I came back from our trip with the same amount of baggage, and I will probably pack the same for our next trip. Let’s face it, I love packing. I love planning. I love using our cooler backpack as a carry-on for all our homeschool books on the way down, then using it as a cooler once we get there. I love knowing that if someone around me needs a bandaid or finger splint, I’m their girl. I love feeling trusted and dependable, even to carry an extremely heavy cooler full of books so someone else doesn’t have to. But I’m still a work in progress. I can celebrate the good in why I am the way I am and continue to allow God to redeem and heal me into walking lighter in Him, even when I carry a heavy load. Because He is ultimately the One carrying me and holding me up.

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” - Matthew 11:28-30