While I finished cooking dinner, my son quietly slipped into my office and sat at my desk with a single sheet of white paper in front of him.  A little while later, he emerged with a picture.  Climbing up into the breakfast nook, he brought his drawing close to me and laid it near my cutting board.  He had drawn a heart.  Not a red heart. Not a pink heart. But a black and blue and green heart. “Tell me about your picture.” He pointed to the blue. “Are you sad, honey?” A nod. “Can you tell me what made you feel sad?” A head shake. Maybe at five years old, he didn’t have the words to tell me what made him sad.  Or maybe, like me, he couldn’t bear to speak it.  All afternoon I had fought back my own tears, swallowing the pain until I felt sick to my stomach.  How could I cry when I needed to be strong for him? When I needed to manage the afternoon chaos, get dinner on the table, and make it to bedtime so that I could finally share my litany of sadness with my husband? There was a clear …

Litany of Sadness: A Holy Week Meditation Read More »