JOY AND GRIEF ARE COUSINS

   I have recently been reading Eileen Laird's book, "Mindful Healing," which is quite wonderful. She is the woman who developed the AIP protocol (autoimmune protocol) some years ago. As a woman with Rheumatoid Arthritis, her way of eating, keeping healthy, and settling one's mind is so helpful for all of us, but especially for us in the Dysautonomia community.

 

  In this book she writes about her husband--who had lost his previous wife to illness--feeling joy and then bursting into tears. Because, as she says, the two emotions are joined at the hip. Often when you feel joy, tears may start. Or when you are crying, a small flame of joy may light in your heart.

  I remember a time 8 years back when I was going through chemo and feeling rather sorry for myself and bleakish as I walked around our deck in winter, using poles to keep my balance. My thoughts were dark. I felt that my future might be dark as well, although I had every confidence in my doctors, that my chemo would do the trick. But, as I walked, leaking tears, I stopped by the end of our deck and looked down. There, on our stone wall, sat a perky, busy chipmunk, washing her face vigorously with two paws. 

She bounced up and down, saw me, and disappeared into one of the many escape holes those creatures have.

 Suddenly, my tears stopped. I brightened, as if a candle had been lit within. My entire mood changed just by seeing this small mite of energetic life below, who probably had not fears of mortality or backwards looking at "what used to be." What a lesson!

 I remember another time, which did not happen to me but to a dear friend and her beloved daughter. This friend had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer at the same time I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. We kept in close touch, wondering--should we dye our hair if we were just going to lose it? 

We decided yes, because it made us feel more like the women we were. She went through many treatments and then, 4 years after her diagnosis, her doctor told her there was nothing else he could do to halt her disease.

 When my friend told her daughter this, they held each other, cried and sobbed and cried some more. Then somehow, the sobbing changed to laughter and they held each other as they laughed hysterically. How does that happen? I don't know. God does. Somehow there are nerves connecting sadness and joy within our bodies and souls. I forget this so often.

 So, the next time I am down in the dumps, I think I shall pop a funny movie in the DVD player, possibly, "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles," 

which I think is hilarious. Then I will wait for my tears to transform into laughter, knowing that God is sitting on the couch with me, holding my hand, and laughing with me.