Standing with my daughter in the midst of tall sunflowers and lush calendula, inhaling the earthy scents while peacefully observing the velvety bumble-bees and colorful butterflies that were also enjoying the sunny sweetness of the day, I realize how lucky I am to be alive on God’s earth.

I know that this summer morning will not last forever. The coolness of autumn will settle; leaves will make their final goodbye to the tree that spawned them and families will turn their attention from harvesting vegetables and gathering fruit to collecting nuts and wood for winter fires; hunkering down until life and warmth spring forth once again. And it goes on like this for a lifespan until we too succumb to our winter. It is all so beautiful – each day another chance to swim in rhythm with the cycles of life; to appreciate all our blessings, counter-pointed and underlined poignantly, but not subjugated, by pain and loss.

In my early years of living in cities, I remember whenever I felt emotionally distraught I had urges to go to the nearest park and just lay on the grass – absorbing the grounding vibrations. I might not have thought about it in those terms back then and rarely acted on my desire. In fact,‘back then’ there were so many dark days where I didn’t listen to my own internal advice; cut off from the source of all life; chasing an end to emotional pain rather than a way through. Even now sometimes, habitual negative thoughts arise akin to those waves of darkness and I realize that many people see only this. I do not know how to contain or express my gratitude for whatever it was that allowed the slivers of light to shine through the heavy psychic armor in which I’d encased my heart.

I think of my brother, departed from this life much too soon for my liking - a latent victim of World War II; his emotional well-being affected to a great degree by my father’s inability to shake his soul’s despair from childhood experiences in a work camp. I cannot pretend to know what God is up to in allowing these large tragedies whose influence spreads like cancerous cells, but I am beginning to see a little – to know in a way that bypasses the intellect - that even for suffering, I must be grateful.

I don’t say this lightly – to accept suffering with gratitude does not mean I enjoy suffering - quite the contrary, thank you! Like most of us, I go to great lengths to lessen emotional and physical pain. But in suffering, we can begin to see the order in things; to test our resolve and to resolve our dichotomies.

Maybe holding this viewpoint is just a poor human attempt to rectify the cycle of birth and death in the least painful way. But – no – too much fullness and joy of spirit come from this perception as gratitude, even for pain, brings a sincere connection from our heart to that Great Heart.

In suffering we are starkly reminded of the transience of material life and start to depend only on what does not change for sustenance. We gain compassion and understanding for the suffering of others. We also gain a sense that we are not alone in this – that even in our smallest steps towards opening that connection with Spirit, we are flooded with help in taking the next stride. We begin to realize how very much we are loved by our creator who is only waiting for us to see the suffering in the world as an invitation to move steadily closer. “Living beyond the reach of I and mine and of pleasure and pain, patient, contented, self-controlled, firm in faith, with all his heart and all his mind given to me – with such a one - I am in love (BG 12:14).”

Once we can see closeness to the Source as a goal and have faith that it is worthy and attainable, we begin to view our trials in life both large and small as directions for internal work. And still, I get angry and impatient, and send God begging prayers to keep from suffering, but through it all there is a pull towards light and love. I get a glimpse and wonder why I can’t always feel that near me, but I am so thankful for feeling at all; trying to focus my desires on whatever means can bring me closer.