How can life be both agony and joy? Why so beautiful and so awful? In one day, in one life, real, biting, dark agony and then rejoicing and laughter.
A mother had two daughters, one fair, one dark. Both walked in the light, in fact, both loved the light, through all kinds of difficulty, in all the dark corners. But a stranger came and said he was what he was not. He wasn't true. He stole the little daughter's heart and then her mind and soul. There are more ways to ravage a girl than physically. He assaulted her and all her gentle tenderness turned to unbearable pain, which she bore, on the floor, weeping like a wounded animal. For a year or more she lay there as we tended her. Now, a heart mended, a mind working. But a lostness rages in her soul still.
The older daughter went on a journey and gathered herself with strangers, one who came to stay and loved her. He tried to do everything right and in many ways it was right, but it just couldn't work. She descended to shadowy places where she fought to regain herself. Oh, how she learned to know herself in the hard, rough places. And then, one of these strangers became a friend and welcomed her to her wedding, where she met the one she had been waiting for. And he had been waiting too. So now, such happiness and rejoicing. So many flowers and fairy lights and all the phantom candles. In her favourite place on earth he asked her, and she said yes.
See? Agony and joy.
All I know is that there are tambourines to be played as my girls go out to dance with the joyful. There are promises that cannot be broken, not one iota of them. His voice is true and he rules in this. In every happy, joyful moment of this and in every broken, darkened, tear-stained moment. He is faithful. My times are in his hands. He is Jesus.