by Demi Prentiss

My grieving, following my husband’s death several months ago, has not been what I expected. I had never imagined that this time would unfold in this way. I have not viscerally felt his absence; I have been much more aware of my husband’s presence – in beloved possessions he left behind, in memories of good times and challenges and making our way through them, in his legacy of kindness and engagement with the under-resourced and marginalized, and embedded in my heart.

I have often been brought close to tears by a sense of wonder and joy as I recognize the gift I was blessed to receive in our 52+ years together.  So I was struck by Ross Gay’s words from Inciting Joy, as quoted in Richard Rohr’s “Protest, Pain, and Joy” blog post (June 19, 2025):

“What happens if joy is not separate from pain? What if joy and pain are fundamentally tangled up with one another? Or even more to the point, what if joy is not only entangled with pain, or suffering, or sorrow, but is also what emerges from how we care for each other through those things? What if joy, instead of a refuge or relief from heartbreak, is what effloresces from us as we help each other carry our heartbreaks?…  

“My hunch is that joy is an ember for or precursor to wild and unpredictable and transgressive and unboundaried solidarity. And that that solidarity might incite further joy. Which might incite further solidarity. And on and on. My hunch is that joy, emerging from our common sorrow—which does not necessarily mean we have the same sorrows, but that we, in common, sorrow—might draw us together. It might depolarize us and de-atomize us enough that we can consider what, in common, we love. And though attending to what we hate in common is too often all the rage (and it happens also to be very big business), noticing what we love in common, and studying that, might help us survive. It’s why I think of joy, which gets us to love, as being a practice of survival. ^[1]”

My baptismal vows remind me that God, living and active, is present always, and part of my job is to perceive God at work in the world around me. Through the stability and acceptance of several interlocking communities, I have learned that community can grow from seeds of common sorrow, and can bloom into joy as a practice of survival. Such solidarity – helping each other stand in the storm –  builds a place where together all can belong – children of God, beloved and called.

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[1] Essayist Ross Gay, Inciting Joy: Essays (Algonquin Books, 2022), 4, 9–10.