Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep

I find this phrase on my mind a lot these days. I don't think I've ever been happier in my life than I am right now. I have a family I love, a job I like, I can work from home 80% of the time which gives us a new sense of balance, friends who care about me whom I enjoy, and issues that were huge in the past have lost some of their sting.

But everyone around me is not always so happy. Rob sometimes struggles in his role, even though he is glad to be a SAHD. Cindy has written lately on her blog about her perspectives on suffering, especially as she mothers a son with a profound cognitive disability. My sister and her husband are going through an especially stressful time right now.

It was the last one that started my thinking on rejoicing, weeping and relating. Sharon and Len came out from Sask to celebrate my graduation with me. For me there was so much to celebrate: I made it through a challenging program "with great distinction", I was hired even before graduating and I may soon be a self-employed social worker in policy, the field that challenged and intrigues me. The stress they are in was readily apparent, even physically, and when asked they were honest about how their situation is wearing on them. While we were together, they celebrated with us, and we prayed with them; I didn't feel that my celebration was diminished, and I don't think they felt like their pain was minimized.

Another situation has been on my mind, but a very different connection. In fact, almost no connection. Most of you who read this blog know who Joy and Derek are, but for those who don't I'll let you know that they are a couple from our church who had a child stillborn because of anacephaly, a condition where the child's head and brain do not form properly. Although we are from the same church, our church is large enough that I don't know them personally, in fact, I can't even recall talking to them. But being from the same church, I know parts of their story. And perhaps it's just because of being part of the same community that I've felt drawn to hear about their experience by reading their blog. Just last night I viewed the claymation in honor of their son River's life.

Inevitably, when I hear their story, two things happen. I cry. And then I go and kiss every one of my kids in their beds. Because I know how much my kids mean to me, I can't help but cry for their loss. I don't understand what Joy and Derek have gone through and continue to go through. But I can imagine what it would feel like and I grieve with them. In that time of weeping with those who weep, I remember the blessings I have, and I remember not to take my kids for granted. Even from a distance, weeping and rejoicing together, as family, as community, lifts us all up.