As mentioned in previous columns, I have been striving to live with Easter joy, from deliberately focusing on the everyday joys of life to truly pondering all that the Resurrection means. As with most stages of life, this Easter there have been some bittersweet stumbling blocks as I have attempted to notice and embrace joyful moments, rather than taking them for granted.
In fact, during a three-day period in this year’s Eastertide, I have participated in and completed a school musical with my students, attended my daughter’s final games as a varsity athlete at UBC, and—most significantly—I have faced the suffering and death of a dear friend.
I have been involved in musical productions at our elementary school for seventeen years. Rehearsing the music for months results in melodies and lyrics running through my head at random times throughout the day—and night. Working with children creates a wonderful bond, and witnessing individual and collective growth is an experience beyond words. The joy inherent in a musical is obvious on the outside, but it does not come without its share of anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion behind the scenes. However, after the adrenaline settles, the dreams are realized, and the final curtains close, sadness inevitably sets in. Shows consume us. We put energy into them, we anticipate their arrival, and like all things, they come to an end.
After the final show, children tearfully realized that this special experience is now part of the past. I must admit that I find this reality hard to swallow myself, but I do appreciate that the gifts of the experience make the stress and sadness worthwhile.
The day after the show, I attended our third child’s final games as a UBC varsity softball player. She began playing softball when she was just eight years old, and even though other sports and music have played roles in her life, she has spent a large part of the past fourteen years training and playing softball.
While life in sport has been busy and demanding, it has also been so much fun to watch her grow as an athlete and a person. She has built resilience, patience, and muscle, along with wisdom and friendships to last a lifetime. She has learned to speak up for herself and others, and to articulate and express difficult feelings with grace and respect.
Tears were shed as she gave her farewell speech at the reception following the games, reflecting on all her years as an athlete. Some of these tears were in recognition of challenges faced and overcome, some were sadness at the speed of time, and others were tears of joy for the blessings that softball life has brought upon our whole family.
Most challenging of all, during the days of the above events, a dear friend died after over a year of illness. Throughout his tests and appointments, hope and faith had prevailed. In the end, though, suffering was more than his body could handle. Despite the exhausting and painful journey he endured, and the knowledge that he is gone from this life, we find comfort in knowing that he received the anointing of the sick, and that people were with him in prayer until he breathed his last. In the face of grief and confusion, there is joy in knowing that Jesus’ death and resurrection have given us the chance to find eternal peace and glory with him in heaven.
In their own ways, each of these situations makes me think of Thomas needing to see the horror and sadness of Jesus’ wounds before he could accept the good news of the resurrection. Thomas was overwhelmed with grief and fear, and it was not until he entered the reality of Jesus’ pain and suffering that he could embrace the joy of Easter, uttering “My Lord and my God.”
Finding and living Easter joy isn’t as easy as it sounds on the surface. It often means enduring different levels of grief, challenge, and pain before we can truly recognize joy. For this reason, I love Ruben Ferreira’s portrayal of “The Doubting Thomas.” This piece of art is a moving contrast to more serious interpretations of Thomas’ reaction to the risen Lord, such as Caravaggio’s. Ferreira highlights the awe in Thomas’ eyes after he recognizes Jesus through his wounds.
Just as “sweet” follows “bitter” in the word “bittersweet,” joy follows life’s darkest storms. It’s up to us to confront the bitter while faithfully keeping our eyes open to savour the sweet.
Your voice matters! Join the conversation by submitting a Letter to the Editor here.
