Eeyore and Joy

By: Izabella Nagle

I recently remembered a conversation I had with a friend of mine. He’s one of those people who sees the glass as half empty, just like that blue-gray donkey from Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore. “The blue sky and summertime remind me of wilted flowers...the song of a bird makes me sad, they all live such short lives...” Yes, that was my friend in a nutshell! Well, this one time he was being an Eeyore about something, don’t remember what, and I called him out on it. He said,“You are the way you are because you haven’t suffered yet.” I was taken aback and remember feeling indignant. I grew up in communist Poland, so my life doesn’t exactly fit into some sort of easy stroll category. I’m not into “one-upping” others, seems especially gauche to do it with suffering, but my husband’s jaw still drops when I share stories from my childhood. Still, it never dawned on me to consider whatever I went through as a reason to become somber. I rejected my friend’s view that optimism is somehow ignorance of suffering and that being joyful will pass when things get difficult enough. But what he said stuck with me and it came back most recently because things are happening in my life right now that are difficult, that bring tears to my eyes, and make my shoulders feel like I’m carrying a weight there. I mused on our conversation and decided to reconsider, think, look into my heart and see if he was right after all.

The world’s commentary...

Have you noticed how our culture is dead-set against suffering? The world provides constant distractions that carry us away from the real and the now. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to think about what bothers you. I’m really good at that –the self-soothing -chocolate, shopping, wine, Housewives of whatever... There are countless ways available to push away and soothe the edges of what is bothersome. We often mistake that for strength, right? We often mistake our ability to ignore things for strength. What I’ve noticed is that while those distractions help us last through things, they prevent us from growing through and in suffering.

Love...

I used to work with couples going through marriage preparation. They were so cute, starry-eyed, so in love, finishing each other’s sentences, until life would happen and there would be some sort of conflict. Gosh, I remember how much upset that caused! They would come to me, shaken, and start wondering, “Why can’t he just see it my way?!”, “Am I meant to be with this person?” And I would startle them... I would say, “This is good! It is so good that you have this conflict... This will help you grow! Embrace this because you have an opportunity to practice love...” We don’t grow in relationships when we are sitting in front of the fireplace, with our champagne flutes, noses powdered, enjoying, I don’t know, a game of Scrabble. I like Scrabble... Well, that’s not when we grow. In our relationships, we grow when things are tough, when we are stretched, when our love has to become an action, a decision, when we have to step outside ourself and either be loved in our jerkiness, or love the other through whatever brokenness.

The decision to get on our knees...I think something similar happens when we suffer. I think suffering, whether big or small, allows us to step outside ourself, admit that there are limits to the control we have over our lives, and allows for the trust, the faith that is necessary to grow in love with our Savior. There is a poverty in the experience of suffering that at first permits, and then asks, and then surrenders to grace. There is an action of our will, the only action necessary, that puts us on our knees in recognition that we are no longer in control...but that the One in control loves us. The words in our hearts are “I trust”. Jesus, I trust in you. Everything becomes a grace...Things are much more difficult, and harmful even, when we don’t take that step that leads us to our knees. Jean Paul Sartre, a French atheistic philosopher, once said, “To be man is to reach toward being God.” When we trust in ourselves, when we do our own self-soothing, we block the work of grace. Suffering is redemptive in part because it reveals to us that we are not God, thus rendering us more receptive to the divine.

Jesus girl...

I want to share a quick story with you about my daughter, Gabi. Gabi is in high school now. She’s doing great, loves her school and her friends, but there was a time in middle school when she went through a really hard time. She had no friends, kids were making fun of her for being Catholic, called her “Jesus girl”, not as a compliment, and generally either excluded or harassed her. It was pretty awful, but it gave birth to this beautiful faith. My child glows when she speaks of Jesus and her relationship with him. Recently, when she saw me grieving and suffering, she shared with me how she coped, and how she got through that time. She told me nights were always tougher and she would feel such a profound feeling of being alone and friendless. She would reach out to God, surrender all her pain, all her loneliness, all her sadness, and offer it all to Him. And He would be there with her, she said, her only friend, one that would never disappoint. And then she would turn with trust to Our Lady. She tells me Our Lady because she is Mother, would snuggle with her, cover her with her mantle and keep her feeling loved and protected during the dark hours of the night. I think that is beautiful...That deep, trusting knowledge that I can turn to God, because God loves me, because God is good, because God wants what is best for me.

The God of all grace...

I think back to the comment my friend made and now I think, in a way, he was right. In the past when I suffered, I suffered with a heart of a child. I suffered like Gabi, turned to God and all was grace, and joy was possible in the midst of any storm. Hurt but not harmed...I suffered, but it did not reduce me, just directed my sight toward what was the truth. May God grant me and all of us the grace of a child’s faith so that we can turn to Him with trust, in love and friendship and abandonment, and all will be a grace.