When It Still Hurts

After the death of her infant daughter, recently a friend of mine blogged about how she resolved not to complain about morning sickness during her second pregnancy and bemoan sleepless nights and spit up all over her clothes. She went on to say that her heart goes out to all those who so want children and cannot, who have lost children, and so many other circumstances. I love how she said, "be careful what you say, since you don't know who around you is hurting so bad for the very thing you have!".

I just want to expand on the heart of that message- that so many of us carry quiet aches and longings in our hearts. Through the atonement of Jesus Christ scars can be healed, hearts mended, bitterness purged, and loneliness eased. However, sometimes that does not take away the residual ache. Like the lingering pain of unrequited first love. The dull ache that remains even years after the passing of a loved one. And the underlying loneliness that becomes almost a background over the years to one who longs for a marriage and family of their own.

I think of another friend who lost her husband this past year. A young widow with an infant son, I have seen the outpouring of love and support shown to her following her tragedy. I worry that after these first couple months, maybe first couple years, the expressed support might diminish. After all, life happens. We move on, other tragedies come while still more joyful moments are all around us. I think of her as I do housework, as I walk to work, and as I sit in my rocking chair to watch the sunset. Tears were shed the day he passed away, but at least on my part I have cried more for her struggle and pain since that day. She recently said, "I know that his passing from this life does not make him gone from me forever, and I know that the time we lost here will be a mere minute when compared to eternity.And that does not take away the pain of missing him now. That does not cancel out the grief I feel every day that he is not here. So still I weep. But because of Him, one day I will weep no more."

And I think of two other friends, whose health intervened with all their plans, even to serve a mission. Both finished their missionary service earlier than expected, honorably released, and I know that the Lord is proud of them. But I also know of the guilt and depression both felt afterwards. I talked to them as they unloaded all the weight they carried around, when they wondered if they did enough, if they are enough (which of course they are!). They are wonderful and incredible people and I know with all my heart that they fulfilled the Lord's purposes. Oh, how I wish I could take away that ache of unfulfilled plans and dreams!

I learn constantly about the atonement of Jesus Christ- how it works, why it does, what it covers. And I will continue to deepen my understanding daily. So, sometimes I ask myself, why does it still hurt? Why, when I know the Savior can completely take the pain away, why does some still linger? I think they are actually several reasons.

First, Lance B Wickman once said, "grief is the natural by-product of love. One cannot selflessly love another person and not grieve at his suffering or eventual death. The only way to avoid the grief would be to not experience the love; and it is love that gives life its richness and meaning." If we grieve deeply it is because we first loved deeply. The Lord allows us to feel the fullness of this mortal experience, to reach toward the ideal love our Heavenly Father has for us. 

Second, the Savior promised he would not leave us comfortless speaking in reference to the Holy Ghost. Yet I believe that it happens another way as well. As we experience trials and heartaches, we develop compassion and empathy for others despite the differences in circumstance or challenges. The Lord has allowed us to act in his place, through service and stewardship, to lift up the hands that hang down. Does it not seem in character for our loving Father to, when the Savior who felt all pain and heartache cannot personally attend each child, to send one who in small measure has felt such pain? I believe so. And does he only send those who went through a similar situation who have long since healed and "recovered"? No, often the ones who come still feel that little ache too no matter how many years have passed.

Now, both of those are kind of side-effects and I wouldn't say that we go through adversity and the lingering grief solely to serve others. Just as the true purpose of repentance is a change of heart as we strive to become like the Savior, I am coming to understand that sometimes the lingering ache and sorrow is part of that same "becoming" process. Oft times, grief and sorrow and heartache, lead to patience, compassion, humility, meekness, charity, increased faith, etc--all the Christlike virtues we are earnestly striving for as disciples of the Savior. The quiet heartaches change our very natures as we learn to turn to the Lord daily, especially as the support or understanding of the world and friends may wane. Perhaps President Monson said it best:

“Our Heavenly Father … knows that we learn and grow and become stronger as we face and survive the trials through which we must pass. We know that there are times when we will experience heartbreaking sorrow, when we will grieve, and when we may be tested to our limits. However, such difficulties allow us to change for the better, to rebuild our lives in the way our Heavenly Father teaches us, and to become something different from what we were—better than we were, more understanding than we were, more empathetic than we were, with stronger testimonies than we had before.” 

Hopefully I've been able to express these thoughts coherently because I believe this idea really does matter. To know that when we still feel pain, loss, ache, and longing, that it too is part of the atonement. The atonement, in more than one sense, is the means by which we are become at one with God. And through the residual and often long-lasting heartaches, we grow, our characters deepen, and our hearts yield to Heavenly Father. Even in our lowest moments, He is drawing us to Him to prepare for eternal life.