CAC Adoption Advocate & Birth Mother, Lori Dortch, shares a post with us about sadness and how there is still hope, faith, joy and love in the midst of the weightiness.
Sometimes she’s a memory-triggering song, other times an object with a memory attached. But when she sneaks up on you, crouches beside you, perches on your shoulder or curls up in your lap, you cannot help but participate in the untimely visit. There is a substantial weight, a heaviness, a thickness to her mass. In recorded history, there have been times when she’s briefly taken ones breath away. Weather-like events occur among her presence, quaking brings about floods and tidal waves. Whirling of air suction (or intake) can violently trigger the bone-chilling siren of wails.
Her aroma is salty, which if endured or inhaled long enough will deplete vital stores of both mind and body. There is symbolism in her skin, a variation of one hue, and often with a gentle hint of ugly greenish-blue. Her skills for present, future and past include, and are not limited to, narrowing pathways, blocking goals, steep and sharp trajectory turns or even stifling joy.Often, but not always, she can awaken the sleep, or conversely prevent sleep from occurring. Nightmares of what used to be, devastation, loss, falling out teeth.Moment by moment, time’s heartbreak: sadness.
We have hope.
We have faith.
We have love.
We have joy.
And these four walls will not allow sadness to overstay her welcome, but they do indeed remember her. They treat her with kindness, then send her on her way.
“You’ve kept track of all my wandering and my weeping. You’ve stored my many tears in your bottle—not one will be lost. For they are all recorded in your book of remembrance.”Psalms 56:8 TPT