Life Has Not Forgotten You

“Don’t be frightened, dear friend, if a sadness confronts you larger than any you have ever known, casting its shadow over all you do. You must think that something is happening within you, and remember that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why would you want to exclude from your life any uneasiness, any pain, any depression, since you don’t know what work they are accomplishing within you?”

–Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

The Austrian poet and novelist Rainer Maria Rilke has so many wonderful quotes from the letters he wrote to a young aspiring poet, Franz Xaver Kappus, from 1902-1908. In the letters, he gives Kappus thoughtful advice about how a poet should feel and experience life–especially in terms of love, truth, and art.

The above quote resonates with me, especially lately, as I’ve been struggling with a lot of anxiety, fear, depression, and confusion about things going on in my life right now. Pain (physical and emotional) is a massive burden to carry, so why wouldn’t I want to remove it from my life?

There are many days when I silently beg God or someone to take away my pain, even if just for a short time. Reading this quote again, however, reminds me that maybe there is a good reason for such suffering in the first place. I don’t have a crystal ball, of course (I wish!), and I do try to remain hopeful that there is some higher, positive reason for my pain. Can pain be good?

Is pain making me a stronger, more empathetic person? I hope so. Has it led to developing friendships and other positive relationships and connections with others? Yes. Has living with chronic pain given me opportunities that I otherwise wouldn’t have had if I didn’t have RA? Absolutely.

But is the pain worth it? Well…I’m tempted to say, “No. Give me back my healthy body, please!” Sadly, life and RA don’t work that way, so I’m stuck with this debilitating disease until a cure is found. But I’m not stuck when it comes to how I handle and react to my pain, even if it feels like I’ve fallen into a deep, dark hole that I can’t crawl out of again.

Just hearing someone else say: “Life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.” gives me a bit of quiet comfort and encouragement that I very much need now and always.

I’m sitting on the soft, green grass now on the edge of beautiful Lake Harriet in South Minneapolis, watching the sailboats bob and twirl back and forth on the blue, rippled water. A cool breeze blows over me as the sun shines warmly upon my hair, bare legs and feet. I think I even spot Minnesota’s state bird, the loon, with its black head and body gliding between a couple of sailboats. It’s summer. Things are OK. Things will be OK. Happiness and (mostly) pain-free days will come again, even if this seems impossible right now. Life hasn’t forgotten me and I do not want to forget to live my life.