joy + sorrow

I have been home for a few days after being in Seattle for one of the four NCAA regional gymnastics championships. Courtney and I spent five days in equal parts gymnastic heaven and heartbreak.

It was a stellar opportunity to see teams we have only seen on screens and witness their excellence firsthand. 

We saw favored teams soar and advance to the national championships, but we also saw other top teams have a few uncharacteristic falls and, let’s just say, cue the tears.
I'm not going to lie; we both had tears well up in our eyes. It was so disappointing for these teams not to have their best day.

When we were not on site for meets, we holed up in our hotel room, watching the other meets held all across the land. Our beloved Oregon State advanced in their semifinal meet but did not punch a ticket to nationals during their regional final. 

However, Jade Carey's brilliance could not be extinguished, and she will compete as an individual qualifier in the national all-around competition. 

Courtney and I have talked for years about going to regionals. We decided to make it happen this year, even though we knew there would be a regional in Corvallis next year. But one never knows what is ahead in a year’s timeframe. 

We have buzzed with anticipation and the gift of extended time to immerse ourselves fully into gymnastics, even deeper than we already have been this season.

As I thought about this time away, I believed it would be fully comprised of joy. 

But life is full of unexpected sorrows, and one such sadness landed about a week and a half before we were to travel. There were discussions regarding changes in scenarios and what should be done. 

I held the trip loosely. I have already shared the end of the story. We went ahead with our plans with the blessing of everyone involved, yet it wasn’t easy.

I have written before about how joy and sorrow can reside within us at the same time. 

However, this occurrence made me realize that, despite our best intentions and desires, it is rare for us to exist solidly in one place, whether it be joy or sorrow. 

I don’t often walk through my days only feeling joy or being consumed with sadness.

Our lives are mixed up with both of these polar opposite emotions. 

If I am honest, I wanted to load up my car and drive away along a highway called pure joy.

Joy was present, mingling right next to sorrow. 

Life can feel like attempting a leap on a beam and losing one's footing. 

One wonders how the fall was possible when decades of practice preceding it were meant to prevent a misstep. 

As we approach Easter, I have been thinking about Matthew 16 where Jesus asked the disciples who the people said He was, and after receiving several different responses, he further asked them:

“But who do you say that I am?”

Simon Peter answered,  “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus praised Simon Peter for this answer and called him by the name of Peter, meaning rock.

He describes how the church would be built on this rock. 

In Matthew 16, Jesus continues to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, undergo suffering, be killed, and be raised. 

Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him by saying,

“God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”

Jesus tells Peter,

“Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on the divine things but on human things.”

Peter is seen and often faulted for his impetuous and bold nature. 

But I wonder if Peter could not bear the possibility of deep sorrow when he had been walking side by side with the presence of joy. He was compelled to declare a resounding no to Jesus’ plans. 

It is very human of Peter and us to want to cling to joy and attempt to push pain away.

We have the fuller picture of Jesus’ sacrificial pain, which would unleash the joy of salvation to all. 

I stumbled upon this quote from Thomas Merton in one of my Lenten devotionals:

“No despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there…We are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnity to the winds, and join in the general dance.”

I will admit to having days that could rival keeping my feet firmly planted on a balance beam.
I am learning that perhaps this has never been the goal of my life , nor is my life being evaluated and scored by a panel of judges. 

My goal is to keep walking as steadily as I am able, knowing I have One who will catch me whenever I tumble or life topples around my feet.

As I continue to step forward, I can take my eyes off the beam and look upward to the Anchor of my days.

I remind myself that one day, we will experience true and unabated joy that will not have sorrow painted across it. 

Until that day.