I felt useless. I sat in a room with my friend who just lost her first child to a miscarriage. I’m usually never out of words. I usually always know what to say. But not this time, I just sat there in silence.
Death and loss and sorrow, what do I really know about it? I only know it must be painful. Heck I don’t even know much about pain. Even science experts cannot fully explain the concept of pain; why we feel it at times but not always, why some have a higher threshold for it more than others, how some people can train themselves to learn to adapt to more pain, it goes on…
I think the pains of life should not be viewed in an aspect other than spiritual. God knows pain I’m sure. I’ve read something that goes “…the beauty of a life is in the pains it surpassed. God intended pain for the purpose of fruitfulness.”
Truly, even my being here entailed excruciating pain for my mother to bring me out into the world; the pain of giving birth for the purpose of fruitfulness. None in creation bears fruit without pain. It is essential for growth. Who’s to say that a rose doesn’t hurt when its petals unfold into a beautiful blossom? Who’s to say that a tree doesn’t hurt when it stretches out its leafy arms to welcome the sunlight? Who’s to say that there is not a single fibre of beauty in a heart-break? Who’s to say that the pain of loss is without purpose? Who’s to say that there is no pain that cannot be surpassed?
There is beauty in the way the process of pain is designed. Even the fruit borne of pain must bear fruit again. It has to bear the pain of being cut open, having its seed plucked out to be planted, nurtured and given time to grow only to bear fruit again.
Maybe pain is a gift. My human eyes without a doubt cannot make sense of it. Maybe our eyes of faith are for times like these, it’s supposed to see better as it gets darker. All we need is His light.
Then finally I said to my friend “My tear ducts are full. I really need to cry.” She smiled. And then we cried…