I've been thinking a lot recently about the sorrow, pain and limitations we experience in our lives. I don't mean really tragic events, but more thhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gife day to day limitations we might have from illness or just from aging, or maybe from our life's circumstances or family situation. For me, it's dealing with some chronic pain that flares up and goes away--mostly leaving me in peace but occasionally reminding me that I can't do everything.
And when I think about the usefulness of limits, it's usually in accepting the sentence I just wrote: that I can't do everything. As a relatively type-A person, I sometimes forget that and instead convince myself that I'm the lynchpin for the entire world's working. My limitations, especially when they really lay me low, remind me that I'm not.
But you know, I'd still sometimes rather learn that important spiritual truth in other ways. This past Sunday we talked about experiencing moments of grace which sometimes come out of difficult or messy circumstances. Couldn't we skip the difficulty and get right to the grace? Can't I learn important spiritual truths without having to deal with early arthritis?
This may fall under the category of: we don't have any choice, so there's not much point wondering. We do experience difficulty, pain, mess, and sorrow, and we might as well find some life lessons (and if we're lucky, some grace) amidst it all. But I think it's important that we don't skip over the sorrow, that we give ourselves time to grieve the mess that eventually led to our more enlightened selves.
As usual, a bluegrass song says it best. I heard it on my way in this morning, and since I can't find the lyrics I'll summarize: I don't like sorrow, but it makes my heart open wide. I've had my fill of trouble, but it makes me a better friend.
I hope you give yourself time for both grieving the mess and noticing the lesson. And that the whole thing plays in your head like the very best country heartbreak song.
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