bitter//sweet

Growing up, my Dad believed that celebrating the Passover Seder Meal was an imperative part of Lent and Holy Week. Since he pastored a campus church, my siblings and I were always the token players of the "children's" role in the meal, asking the few questions allocated to us and completing the ritualistic opening and closing the doors at the appropriate times. I remember practicing the questions beforehand each year, specifically reminding ourselves again and again that "herbs" is said with a silent "h" so that we could ask the question about why we eat herbs as a part of the meal. The answer, always - to celebrate and recognize both the bitter and the sweet.

So it is fitting that this first week of Lent 2012, I am rereading Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet, a collection of short vignettes and stories. We are gearing up big time in our house for Pulse 2012, an annual-ish arts conference at our church that is Paul's (work) baby. Shauna is one of the artists we are bringing in to speak, and in light of that I decided I should refresh myself on her latest book. So as I was reading tonight (last night? because yes, it is really 4 a.m. and I went to bed too early and now can't sleep...oh to be pregnant), I caught myself underlining this little bit:

Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness. Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands. Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity. Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy. - S. Niequist

Oh, girlfriend is singing my song. I love this. It is so true, so Lent. At the heart of celebrating Lent is celebrating the darkness and brokenness in us all, that which eventually led to the death of Christ, only softened and made beautiful by Christ's resurrection and rebirth. So that ultimately in this unending cycle of death of rebirth, of brokenness and redemption, we can find our wholeness.

And, continually, I find this dichotomy of the bitter and the sweet to be true in my own life. The sweetness of spring and the season of Easter inevitably, for me, coincide with the bitterness of what April is a reminder of - the death of my own father, one of the most pivotal people in my life as a person and as a believer. And though the rest pales in comparison, the bitter and the sweet are present in so many other forms as well.

There is so very much sweetness in our lives right now that it seems a shame to talk about anything else. For both of us, work is full in a good way. The house we've been working on renovating for 1 1/2 years tirelessly is now home. Our little girl is a reminder at all times (okay, save the new revelation of toddler tantrums) of pure love and joy and sweetness in our lives, and of course there is nothing sweeter than the tiny kicks of new life growing inside my womb. It is a beautiful, blessed sweet time in our lives.

But there is always some bitter, and shouldn't there be? Doesn't it remind us of what a blessing the sweet truly is in this life? As much as I anticipate the arrival of this second baby, I mourn the loss of the precious 1:1 (or 2:1) time with little A, wondering how the change will impact her in both the short and the long term. The anxious me thinks again and again of what life...work...day to day...will bring with two little people in our home. And as we prepare for this major life change in the coming months, we are rejoicing with and devastated by the impending move of some of our dearest Madison friends. Four and a half years ago we started a small group of other couples from our church, and they have for every sense of the word become our Madison family. They have become our community, our home, our plans for the holidays, the people who we are raising babies with. With both of our families hours away at best, in this time of change and growth and newness in our own lives, these friends have been our rocks. In the coming few months, before the arrival of our newest addition, two of the couples in the group will be moving across the country. Literally. And in my attempts to remain logical and hopeful and not purely id driven crazy sad over the change, I am reminded to be thankful for the bitter and the sweet. And for that, Shauna once again manages to put words to what I am thinking...

This is what I have come to believe about change: it's good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it's incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God's hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be. So this is the work I'm doing right now, and the work I invite you into: when life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow. - S. Niequist

And to that I say, amen amen. Grateful, all the way, for a season peppered with both in this here life.