when yes means no

I read a passage from Paul Tournier today with a sentence that jumped out at me: "Sadness and joy kiss at every moment." It captured exactly what I am feeling right now - in so many parts of my life.

There is my children's increasing independence and imminent leave-takings - exactly what we have been training them for these 18 years. They are ready to fly, literally, and I can see it so clearly. I am proud of them, excited for them, jealous of them. . . but I know I'll ache when they really go. I welcome the busyness of preparation in the same way that I welcomed the mediocre artwork on the walls of the phlebotomy lab today; anything to look at instead of the vial filling with my blood.

Then, too, there is an upcoming reunion with friends who were once exceedingly dear to me, with whom I have only recently reconnected after a long absence. The thought of spending time with them is wonderful, but poignant, too, fraught as it is with the reminders of the decades gone by, and the way life has changed us all.

And of course there is our upcoming move, which is in many ways a dream come true. We have always wanted to travel with our kids but never been able to afford to. We have always wanted to live and work in another culture. (Dare I say we have always wanted a dishwasher??) But now that the tickets are bought and our house is rented and the boxes are piling up in the breezeway I am so very sad to be saying so many goodbyes - to friends, to our house, to our way of life, to our present selves, who will be forever changed by this move.

I have a cowardly streak running through my heart; I am tempted so often to avoid even joy because of the sadness that inevitably accompanies it - or to suspect joy because of the inevitable sadness that travels with it. I wish I were not so careful to protect myself sometimes - still so afraid to feel, because there are always two sides to the coin of happiness.

I have known all my life that every "yes" is also a "no" - or a thousand "no's." I have recognized the terrible power of a single "yes" to outweigh an infinite number of other possibilities. I can never forget that every choice is also an abnegation of the not-chosen. I can't seem to help a certain regret for the things I have said "no" to - even when the "yes" is good and right.

Has there ever been unalloyed happiness in a choice in this life?? Can there be? Tournier thinks not, and I agree. I cried at my own wedding for heaven's sake because of all the "Now I never wills" that I silently said when I said the words, "I do." Sadness and joy kissed at the same moment as the bride and groom.

Tournier's consolation is the hope of heaven, and I hope he is right - that one day we can know pure joy without a tinge of sorrow, that our "yes" can be all "yes," unencumbered by any sadness. That when God wipes away all tears from our eyes we will never again see sadness and joy kiss each other. But today they are as close as they could be.