Article October 2, 2000 Issue

TURNING MOURNING INTO DANCING

Alfred J. Gemrich

A few years ago, a longtime friend died. I had known him and his wife from high school, and their children called me "uncle." His battle with illness was both tragic and heroic. After his death I was haunted for months with images of his weakness and decline. A deep sense of loss and consequent gloom persisted from the time of his death in August until the following spring. I was praying for relief from this, but it didn't come.

I live on a farm and am a great lover of nature. I find beauty, comfort, and inspiration in wild places, under the stars, in meadows, woods and waters, in the company of animals. I hear most clearly the invitation to "come and see the works of God" (Ps. 66:5).

But that year the usual delight with the arrival of spring, the sense of renewal of life and reminder of Life eternal, were not forthcoming. I felt keenly the Biblical Psalmist's distress, and his poignant words echoed within me: "My heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God" (Ps. 84:2).

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