From Sadness to Joy — and Beyond!
Based on the word prompt “Restore”
Restore: “to return something or someone to an earlier condition or position, or to bring something back into existence.” (Cambridge Dictionary)
Recently, I was hit with an overwhelming sadness that lasted for a week. It penetrated my world. Sadness over so many things. Sadness that stretched from my past, to the present, and into the possible future. I’d never felt such heaviness.
Thankfully, it didn’t last. But as the week progressed, I began to process, often through writing. Restoration occurred. And with it, inspiration from the Spirit to write a poem. I’ve titled it :
The Visitor
An unwelcome guest
Visited me this past week.
Visited? Well, more like
Moved in.
It arrived —
With boxes stacked to the ceiling
In the living room
The dining room
The kitchen
The bedrooms
My office.
Heavy, the black marker on each box:
Names of family
Of friends
Of places and situations.
Suffocating weight
Hoarding my space, my time,
My tongue, my pen.
Hiding the windows and doors
Leaving me frozen in
Darkness.
“Come, I have much to show you,” my visitor said
With a grin of self-satisfaction.
I sensed the hovering, a tyrant who
Could not be refused.
I sat and let it take over.
Sadness of the world.
Pain in relationships.
Hurt in situations.
Brokenness of humanity.
I succumbed, without navigation.
Or so I thought.
“Do not be afraid.”
I turned and, in the darkness,
I saw
My friend. Illuminating my
Space and time.
“Do not be afraid,” he repeated.
Then I realized he had been there
The whole time. In the
Small cracks of light
Streaming between and over
The boxes;
In the narrow passageway
To the door, seemingly
Impossible to squeeze through.
But he was there
Giving me strength to face
The sadness
Not allowing the boxes
To strangle me.
I sat — and my friend sat with me as
The visitor opened boxes.
Spilling out memorabilia in
Space and time and rememberings.
New boxes,
The scent of pressed paper
Still lingering on the flaps.
Old boxes,
Half-crushed and duct-taped
Smelling of crawl spaces and mold.
“Remember well, I am here.”
“Grieve well, I am here.”
“Be a good steward of your pain.”
Words from my friend
As together we
Considered each item.
I looked at his face. Was he
Enjoying this task?
My visitor was.
But my friend — his face was full
Of tenderness and compassion.
His eyes were red, his cheeks
Streaked with tears. He understood
This visitation of sadness.
“Do not be afraid,” he said for the third time.
“I have already gone through these boxes.”
His smile was gentle.
Then together,
My friend and I,
We opened more boxes.
My visitor stepped back
Into the shadows.
Then my friend invited others
To help me. As they
Arrived, the narrow entrance
Widened.
They brought food and drink,
Music and laughter.
They sat with me
And asked about this time
And that space.
The boxes began
To fall apart.
My visitor
Began to shrink, annoyed,
Though I was unaware.
And slowly
Boxes came down.
Every room began
To fill with light
And joy
And hope.
All day
The boxes
Dwindled.
And as I lay
My head on my pillow
I realized my visitor was gone
Without a good-bye.
“The visitor will be back,” my friend said.
“But that’s okay.
Next time there will be fewer boxes
— Or a shorter visit.”
He looked at me, his eyes sparkling.
“Besides, does it matter?
I’m not going anywhere.”
He laughed.
A contagious laugh
Deep and playful
Rich with giddy joy.
I laughed too
Because, well,
I just couldn’t help myself.
I found restoration.
And with it, a new sense of joy and wonder, love and mystery, in my ever-present Friend, JESUS! But not just that. I realized I was no longer afraid of the sadness — that sometimes it’s important to be sad, almost as if it was a Holy Sadness. I can’t really explain that, except that it’s somehow connected to the sadness that Jesus experiences at seeing all the hurt and pain in the world — a world that He created to be full of love and purity and goodness.
God’s kind of restoration. NOT the kind defined by the world, but the kind found in the Scriptures. Because when God restores, He doesn’t just return something or someone to an earlier, condition or position. Oh no! He EXCEEDS human expectation. Why? Because He’s a good and loving God. Because He wants to bless humanity with His goodness.
Consider the story of God healing Naaman of his leprosy in 2 Kings 5. Verse 14 says, “his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.” Restoration and suddenly Naaman’s skin was as soft and supple as a young boy’s. Now THAT’S restoration!
Or the story of Job. After everything that happened to him, “the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before.” (Job 42:10, NIV) God’s kind of restoration.
More examples?
Psalm 126. The Israelites returned with shouts of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Isa. 38. God not only adds 15 years to Hezekiah’s life but He also delivers the city from the king of Assyria.
Daniel 4:36. Nebuchadnezzar was not only restored to his throne, but he became greater than he was before.
Zech. 9:12. God says to His people, “Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you.”
Then, along comes Jesus. People come to him — the lame, the blind, the lepers, the deaf. And what does Jesus do? He not only restores them physically, but He restores them back to society, to relationships, AND to Himself when He also forgives their sins. The story of the paralyzed man being lowered from the roof in Mark 2 is an example of Jesus’ complete restoration! Oh how beautiful He is. Oh how He loves us!
As I let my poem spill out onto paper, I realized that this was my experience as well. And that shouldn’t surprise me or you, because God likes to do,
“immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us;” (Eph. 3:20)
God’s power — God’s restoration.
Soli Deo Gloria.
Connie Mae Inglis has lived life to the full with her family overseas as a Bible translator, literacy worker and teacher. She is passionate about serving minority language groups, being a grandma, and writing. You can find more of her writing, including information about her recent novel, Rewriting Adam, at www.conniemaeinglis.ca
