Grief and Joy

“My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning. O Israel, hope in the Lord!” – Psalm 130:6-7

Today was our first day of school. As with many landmarks during this time, it felt like a mix of grief and joy. It’s fantastic to be have freedom from finding school parking or hauling school gear, to be able to serve fresh snacks and meals. It’s a real gift to be so closely involved now in what my children are learning, to better be able to incorporate home lessons throughout the day. But the whole thing felt sad too. It’s sad to see kids staring into screens for hours a day. Knowing it was coming is one thing; seeing it happen is another. This is not how it’s meant to be.

There is consolation, I think, in how the Bible doesn’t glance over these things. Doesn’t jump to some fix or analysis, but tarries in the places where grief and joy mingle together. My soul waits like the watchmen wait. You don’t set watchmen on the walls unless there is potential for trouble. Their very existence is an acknowledgment that all in the world is not as it is supposed to be. They wait in the dark, through the night. And yet it is in that place that the psalmist speaks of hope and steadfast love. The arrival of the dawn, the end of their shift, is sure, and that is how we wait: we look, and we hope, but never in vain, for there will come the “morning star” (Revelation 2:28).

McKelvey writes, “You are the sovereign of my sorrow.” Sometimes, that is all I can see, the loss and wrongness in how we are living. But sometimes too in that place the joys and gifts pierce through, experiences and perspectives and changes that never would have happened if my life had not been so radically reframed the way this time has forced it to be. “You are the sovereign of my sorrow. You apprehend a wider sweep with wiser eyes than mine. My history bears the fingerprints of grace… you remain at work.” Sadness and grace, grief and joy, and in that place, God remains at work. Hope in the Lord.