For me, the greatest example of the joy God’s tests can bring has been our son who was born with Down Syndrome. We learned that our capacity to love could expand exponentially. And then just in case we weren’t sure of how much joy he brought us, we became regulars at Children’s Hospital, praying that he would survive his multiple open-heart surgeries. His autism diagnosis at age 5 was a bit much (really God?), but we moved to a slower paced life in Victoria and have molded a routine that is good. Most days I think he has been the foundation of a deeper, more complex and spiritually aware life for all of us. On my off days, I indulge in chocolate and bad TV and wait for my mood to pass.
So finally we’ve gotten into a groove of sorts. And now God is bumping us out of our groove. Our doctors have confirmed that there are no effective surgical options for a little boy who has already suffered the pain of many operations. It seems our son’s heart is pure and sweet and utterly unsuited for its purpose. I am again travelling the well-worn road of denial - anger – bargaining – depression, and I suppose I am edging towards acceptance with regular detours back through the neighbourhoods of anger and depression. My conversations with God have been questioning His Will. We’re arguing. I realize that I am unlikely to prevail and I am going through an odd phase of deliberately not saying prayers – giving God the silent treatment, I suppose. But I also know that my only real solace is in those prayers and writings.
One of my favourite prayers begins by confirming the value of tests in our lives: “O Thou Whose tests are a healing medicine to such as are nigh unto Thee.” I have always enjoyed the slight irony that within this prayer I am asking God to send me the very tests that I then lament. Usually, the idea that tests prepare our souls for the next world helps me make sense of the purpose of life’s hardships. I understand that in this world, tests push us to learn and to love and help each other so that we can better develop the virtues and capacities of our souls. And that the very goal of this life is to develop our souls as best we can for their journey to the next world. But faced with my son’s own journey, I’m balking.
Within the Baha’i Writings there are some beautiful explanations of death – that the soul leaves the body the way a bird is freed from its cage, that a tender plant is moved from one area of a garden to another area in order to thrive. These bring me some peace of mind as does the statement that death is considered a “messenger of joy unto thee”. I guess the caveat is that this joy is clearly for the person who dies, while for the person left behind in this world, especially parents, separation “bringeth with it a burning grief”. The honest statement that the loss of a child “is indeed heartbreaking and beyond the limits of human endurance” gives me pause as it seems I am destined to endure it. And I’m not sure all the prayers in the world are enough to help me pass this test. I feel like a high school student complaining that the test is too hard, and yet, I know that there is a purpose to it all and that my life’s journey is to find that purpose. But God, I wish I could have an easier test.
Cathy Nash grew up in Victoria, came back for law school (where she discovered the Baha'i Faith), and returned a few years ago with her family.
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