On January 28 (Ashton’s angelversary), Faye and I went for a walk in a redwood forest near Rotorua, New Zealand. We stopped partway, sat on a bench and meditated. As I walked, the scripture in Alma 36 came to my mind, so I looked it up. Adapting it to my situation, this is the part that resonated with me: “…as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by [my grief], behold, I remembered to have heard…concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the [grief and pains] of the world. Now as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy no me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of [grief]. And now,…when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more;…I was harrowed up by the memory of my [grief] no more. And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold;…my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!”

I can’t say that this happened instantaneously…but as I cried out in my heart over and over, “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me…” I gradually felt lighter and not so weighed down with grief. I am grateful for that answer to prayer that came as I asked and according to God’s will and timing.

Also while we walked, I thought about a conversation between Winnie the Pooh and Piglet:”Today was a difficult day,” said Pooh.There was a pause. “Do you want to talk about it?” asked Piglet? “No,” said Pooh after a bit. “No, I don’t think I do.” “That’s okay,” said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend. “What are you doing?” asked Pooh. “Nothing, really,” said Piglet. “Only I know what difficult days are like. I quite often don’t feel like talking about it on my difficult days either.” “But goodness,” continued Piglet, “difficult days are so much easier when you know you’ve got someone there for you. And I’ll always be here for you, Pooh.” And as Pooh sat there, working through in his head his difficult day, while the solid, reliable Piglet sat next to him quietly, swinging his little legs…he thought that his best friend had never been more right.” As I thought about this fictitious conversation, I thought of Faye and many other friends and family who can’t take my pain away, but are willing to just (metaphorically) “sit with me,” I cried in gratitude for their compassion.

One night during this recent “rough patch,” I was trying to go to sleep, but my mind and heart were weighed down with grief. I felt alone. I cried out in my heart, “Heavenly Father, it’s just You and me right now. Please help me.” And He did! Within a short time, my mind and heart were calmed and I was able to go to sleep.

When the Prophet Joseph Smith was illegally imprisoned for six  months in Liberty, Missouri, he received several revelations from God. Reading one of them today [written January 28] brought me comfort, “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” Right now, grief has been one of my “foes.” I also read this quote today by Elder Lawrence E. Corbridge: “…suffering and joy are not incompatible but rather essential companions. You can suffer and never know joy, but you can’t have joy without suffering.” In the moment, I can’t say that I’m grateful for grief and suffering. However, I believe they have enhanced my ability to experience joy. It’s like they have stretched and even “broken” my heart…a painful experience…but doing so has allowed my heart to grow, making more room for more joy and happiness.

I recently read an article that resonated with me. Again adapting to my situation: I have two hands. In one of them (metaphorically speaking), I am holding grief; in the other, I am holding joy. With time, my grip on the grief I’m feeling becomes less intense and my grip on the joy I’m feeling becomes more intense. I can attest that it is possible to feel both grief and joy simultaneously.

Another article talked about “cleaning up debris” after a catastrophic life event. I think my occasional grief spells are helping me accomplish that. I’m trying to learn to welcome grief like I would a friend. This time, I tried to welcome “him” into my home, to sit with him and see what he has to teach me. Like I might prepare for the visit of an important person, I am trying to prepare my heart for grief’s periodic visits. After he leaves, there are some things that need to be picked up and put away.

I also thought of patients whose joints swell up and become painful when the weather is stormy and of how these same grief spells might be likened to those symptoms: painful, but usually transient.
(to be continued…)