A Few Moments of Joy

Parade goers waved their flags of red-white-and-blue. I held my nine-month-old son in my arms, pointing to the fire engines. My eyes burned from crying all night long. My mouth was dry. But for this one moment, this fleeting moment, all I hoped for, all I desired was a few moments of joy.

I looked into the blue eyes of my little son, the child my husband and I waited for and prayed for the last five years of our marriage. He looked so much like Gerry; I had to swallow the lump forming in my throat. My stomach tightened. I studied my little son’s face. His long eyelashes blinked in fascination. Just a few moments of joy.

Jared clapped his hands as the colorful floats passed. I stood there, my son and me. Just a few short weeks ago, I stood in the park with Jared and Gerry. Gerry took off from work for his twenty-eighth birthday. The sunshine filtered through the trees. Gerry carried Jared on his shoulder. He gently slid his son, our son, into the baby swing. “Wee…”

Just a few moments of joy. That’s all I wanted. Just a few moments of feeling that life was normal. A few moments to laugh, to put the cares and sorrow aside. They would find me soon enough. They had all night long.

And then it happened. One of Gerry’s sisters walked up to me. I don’t remember everything she said but I do remember this. “Sue, I just want you to know, it’s okay to cry. My girls need to see your grief.”

My heart started beating erratically. My palms grew slick. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? I had been crying non-stop for five days since Gerry died. But she hadn’t been there to see, to know the sleepless nights, the emptiness I felt inside. “I… I have been crying. I just wanted to bring Jared to the parade and have a few moments of joy. Just a few moments…”

I turned. I wanted to run, to escape, to find a safe place, a place where I would not be judged by the number of tears shed. A place to find a shoulder to lean on, a place where people who cared would give me the freedom to cry when I needed to, to talk when I needed to, to sit with me in silence when there were no words to say.

I clambered up the steps to my home, the home Gerry and I bought, the home we worked so hard to fix up for our family. I stumbled into Jared’s bedroom and gently laid him in his crib. I kissed his chubby cheeks and pressed bunny into his outstretched hands. I collapsed in my guest bedroom. My mom and sister sat next to me, wrapping their arms around me, rocking back and forth.

Tears fell once again. Tears of anger; tears of loss. Gone was the moment of joy. Gone, but not lost forever. As sure as the sun shines after the rain, moments of joy would come again. Moments that by God’s grace has given my heart hope. Moments spreading into a familiar pattern until the moments of joy far outnumber the moments of tears.

Today is September 7th. Twenty-two years ago, I married Gerald Alan Kelly, my high-school sweetheart. And even though our time on earth ended in bittersweet sorrow, I know I will see my friend again. One day when by God’s grace, my earthly bonds break way to Heaven’s glory.

Until that day, I continue to live, to feel those moments of joy and sorrow flow through my heart and soul. To know as I gaze into the blue eyes of Jared, my teenage son, that all is not lost. Because God is a god of hope, of healing, of joy.

In Christ I live. In him, I find the courage to go on, to love again. To grasp the hand of my second husband Jim; to gaze into the eyes of our five-year-old son, Joel, and say, “Come what may, Lord Jesus. You will sustain. You are enough.”

Yes, because of Jesus my Savior, I have joy unspeakable.

With much love and prayers,
Susan

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

P.S. Bunny still has a special place in our home…