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"Welcher Po passt auf dieses Klo?" or "Ich Auch!" |
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Dear all,
I first began writing these emails as a way to alert people to Bill's death and Karl's injuries. What I discovered, however, was that the discipline of writing became for me an avenue to sort out my new reality, to seek support from those near and far, and to garner prayers for us all. Because the point of writing these reflections has never been anything more that that, I do what I have done from the beginning; I write what rests on my spirit, and describe what is happening with Karl, and with Else, and with me.
The last email generated powerful responses from people, mostly falling into two categories: responses expressing concern for my well-being, and responses expressing a solidarity with my sadness. I discovered again that there are few who are untouched by tragedy.
The Germans have a word called "Schadenfreude," roughly translated as "joy at other's misery." Whether we wish to acknowledge it or not, we all have felt it at one time another, an emotion sometimes veiled as concern for another's misfortune. However, "Schadenfreude" is really about a) being glad it wasn't you, and b) feeling smug that it wasn't.
However, in a community of saints, "Schadenfreude" could take on a more benevolent meaning. It is rather "solidarity." While I do not wish this sort of pain on anyone, it is heartening to visit with those who understand it by having lived it. This is the sort of "Schadenfreude" I feel from you, and did most certainly after my last email.
The "it," judging from people's emails after the last entry, is both the sorrow of loss, and the struggle of faith. And what I have learned, again, is that I am not alone. In fact, somehow the people on this list are bound together in a common pursuit of prayer, of pain, and of hope against hope.
A few things:
Many were concerned about me being depressed. I am attentive to that concern (somebody pointed out that of the top "stressors" in life, I've got a good handful: death of spouse, injury to child, new child, new job, move, new house--Uff Da.). I have talked with a doctor about my crying jags, and her response was, "And?" I have lots of people around me to watch and make sure that I am eating well, sleeping well, and if I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, or start giving away the new minivan, well, it won't go unnoticed. Thank you for your worries and your advice.
Many spoke about the difficulties of faith in the midst of tragedy. One wrote of a woman who, when faced with her own horrible situation, was told, "It must be difficult to hold onto your faith!" to which she replied, "It is the easiest thing in to do." More or less, that's true.
Systematic theologian though I am, I still don't "get it." People tell me that this event will transform my teaching, and I am as yet unclear how, but am sure that it shall.
Of this much I am sure:
I know now that the cry of "How long, oh Lord, how long" is not just apocalyptic rhetoric, but captures the real anguish of people's lives, and the need to be free from that which grieves God even more than we.
I know now that really, there can rarely, if ever, be unmitigated joy, if one is at all aware of sadness in others' lives.
I am even more convinced that Advent needs to remain Advent, for there are times in one's life when it is all too clear that the Messiah is yet to arrive in fullness and glory.
I am certain that the Messiah will come again. Has to. I'd prefer sooner rather than later, but in God's good time. Meanwhile, I will go back to loving my son and daughter, preparing syllabi, filling out forms regarding Karl, enjoying an occasional Cointreau after the children have finally gone to bed, and praying, "Come, Lord Jesus."
Karl took five big steps on Sunday, with assistance, but they were five big steps. I do hope that Karin, his physical therapist while Karl was in intensive care in Regensburg, is reading that. Karl beamed. He doesn't always want to try it, but is glad when he does. Sometimes I have him walking on my feet, which is fun for him, tough on my toes, however. I don't mind in the least.
(Please see December 18 continued)
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