Sorrow and Joy

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. —Kahlil Gibran 

Last Saturday I took my two cats, Ellie and Gracie, to their new home, and I wept, because for the past four years they have been my delight. It is difficult to separate ourselves from that which we love, especially when the separation is a consequence of our own decisions. If someone from the Mount had asked me Saturday night if giving up the cats was worth gaining all that community life has to offer, I likely would have said “No,” and meant it. Fortunately, I encoun-tered Sr. Loretta in the hall, who gave me a hug and led me to a box of tissues instead.

Sunday’s gospel from Luke offered a hard truth that spoke to my situation: we need to hate (i.e., detach ourselves) from our family and even our own life to be a disciple of Jesus. Although people who are not animal lovers may not believe that giving up one’s pets falls into that category, anyone who has loved and been loved by a dog or cat understands that giving them up is a bitter sacrifice.

I have caught myself thinking that with so much human suffering in the world, I shouldn’t grieve the loss of my pets, especially because they will be comfortable and well taken care of in their new home. However, as I learned when I studied counseling, grief of any kind is not subject to judgment; it must be acknowledged and honored for healing to occur.

As when I relinquished my house and other possessions, what has been some consolation is that Ellie and Gracie will now be a blessing to someone else who needs them, and that a channel has been carved in me as a conduit to other blessings. In his book The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran noted, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” We have to trust that, as we request in Psalm 85, God will “nourish our joy.” Gibran goes on to reflect,

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. 

Although, to my great regret, joy is no longer taking the form of a cat asleep upon my bed, I will be ready when it appears in another guise.