It’s not the main coping mechanism.
But the ability to exercise the laugh muscles in the face of paralyzing fear and despair seems a bit like spitting in the Devil’s face. You will not prevail. Joy will come, in spite of you. We refuse to become your captives.
The last two posts were attempts to find a little levity… lightness… in the dark cloud of heavy despondency.
But the sadness is still there, a subterranean river of raw wounds. Questions. Anxieties. Aches. Loss.
“What if’s…” “Why’s?”
Katherine told me not to read her latest entry yesterday, as I was already feeling down. So I saved it for this morning.
If you haven’t read it, it’s here.
I’m glad that I'd spent some employing my main coping mechanism before I read it. Her words made me cry.
But I am so grateful that my persistent Pollyanna can get some of this heartache out. Her bravery and faith are momentous… awe-inspiring. Nevertheless, her precious mother’s heart is broken each and every day in a thousand different ways.
This whole story is a mixture of hope and despair, joy and anguish, the miraculous and the mundane.
Today’s looking pretty grim.
But I am going to look really hard for something to smile about.
I know it’s there somewhere.