Holding grief yet sharing joy.

I recently discovered that about 8 years ago, when I was getting ready to celebrate what was then the happiest season of my life, one of my closest friends was carrying a lot of grief and I didn’t see it. You know the kind of grief you carry because you are waiting for something to happen; something that you desire for deeply, something you have prayed for, for years – that sense of loss of something you have never had, yet long to have…. Yes, that’s the grief I’m talking about.

In the season when my husband and I were preparing to get married, she was carrying that grief with her; and I didn’t even notice. (That’s a topic for another day) …

That realization followed me into something I later saw online. I recently came across a video commentary on a tweet on X., and it resounded with me – I had many thoughts, and I thought to put it down.

I mean, WhatsApp status has a feature to mute stories you don’t want to see – but that’s not the point of this article.

When I first read this tweet, I immediately thought there’s no way she’s happy for her friend and still pained. Then I took a second thought and realized; if her pain wasn’t dependent on the success of her friend, those two emotions can co-exist, can’t they?

Grief and joy are not mutually exclusive; love makes room for both.

I mean, think about it…

I know this tension personally, because I’ve lived it. I’ve experienced it before where; I’m pained for someone’s joy because I was still navigating my own circumstances. I’ll elaborate. Earlier in my marriage, when my husband and I were navigating the first stages of infertility struggles, I discovered someone who had an unplanned pregnancy. For the life of me, I couldn’t reconcile, then, how God will give “the reward” of the fruit of the womb to someone who was living in sin – essentially, that person will mother a child out of wedlock.

When I voiced these struggles to a sister in Christ, I noticed a few months later, that I had been “iced out” of the joy of sharing in her moment of conception. It hurt. I felt judged as someone who cannot celebrate the joys of another because I was carrying my own grief of consistent loss / delay.

Imagine walking around a church community and everyone else knows the joy of someone’s season and is celebrating with them, and you find out after everyone else – simply because there is an assumption that you cannot share in someone’s joy despite your situation.

Knowing the loss of a season, and the weight that comes with longing serves an advantage; you’re able to see how hard it is to be in that space, enough to not wish it for others. Carrying grief can equip you to share in joy so deeply, because you will not wish that grief or loss for the other person.

I think it is possible to hold grief and yet, share in joy with the next person.

That’s what the Bible said in Romans 12:15; "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn"

It is a command to lay down your personal situation – whether happy or sad and show up for others. There is a selflessness in this kind of love. There is a strength that allows you to carry both emotions in full form, it's what you do with those emotions that counts.

Perhaps love is not proven by the absence of pain, but the willingness to show up anyway. I don’t think that makes you a bad person if you’ve ever been in this situation.

Do you?