Light and Shadow

Life is full of light and shadow,
Oh the joy and oh the sorrow.

Thus begins one of my favourite songs, by David Crowder Band.  I spent much of my early twenties being amazed as I saw that these words are true.  I couldn't believe the amount of struggle and pain that my friends had, along with all the joy and good news.

Growing up, there were obviously shadows: grandparents dying, friends losing their parents, huge struggles with body image and lots of grief over boys I fancied who didn't fancy me (!)...  Which, while they seem very hard at the time, looking back (and hearing other people talk about their own childhood) I see that these weren't deep shadows.  They were more like those half shadows you get from a streetlamp at dusk.  There was a huge amount of light in our home: music, faith, structure, support, love etc etc.

Perhaps this is one reason for my amazement at the situations in which my friends and I found ourselves.

Over the past 4/5 years, that amazement has gone.  There's no surprise any more.  Life is hard.

We have seen (in our lives and in others') many causes for joy over the past few years: new jobs, new homes, new babies, amazing holidays, wonderful music-making, friendship groups formed, new missionaries sent, new couples, new engagements......

But oh the sorrow: children losing a parent at a young age, miscarriages, divorces, jobs lost, stories of abuse, cancer diagnoses, addictions, depression, broken relationships...

I'm no longer surprised by the sorrow.  But I am often surprised at people's response.  Someone very recently, on receiving some devastating news, told me how aware they were of their blessings.  Another friend constantly amazed me throughout her diagnosis and treatment of cancer, with her positivity, her attitude of looking for the good in her circumstance, and her willingness to use her 'trial' to serve others.

The song continues: Yet will He bring dark to light, Yet will He bring day from night.

Last year, after our miscarriage, someone (who, when he said this, didn't know about the miscarriage) told me how much joy he saw in me.  That I seemed more joyful than I had after only 2/3 years of trying for a baby.  Soon after, I wrote these words:


"I am amazed at how I can still find joy in other people's babies.  Others' pregnancies are still harder, but I still love babies and want to be around them.  I am amazed at how much grace I feel is being given to me, to not only cope with our loss, but to more than cope.

I've almost thrived on it.  It's like I've said to myself, "I was always petrified of having a miscarriage, but now I know that I can get through it.  What else is there to fear?"  Of course, that wasn't myself but God telling me that I am stronger than I think - because He is stronger than I think.

I would never have believed, had someone told me 2 years ago, that I would feel more peace, more contentment, more upheld in prayer, more trusting in God now, after 4 years of infertility, than I did after 2 years!

Steve spoke yesterday about God taking us through the storm, not around it.  Of course, in one sense, I wish this storm hadn't come our way.  But when I think of all that God has wrought in me over these years, how could I bypass that growth just so my impatience could be satisfied?

The situation will change, one day.  But the beauty grown from this season will remain."