Happy, unhappy

Virtuous happiness issues its arduous demands. Happiness on the cheap is repellent and repugnant. Heron can do that, as can orgies (or any sort). Full bodied happiness is steeped in sorry, grief, and lament. It refuses to despair, which is giving up on the God of hope and life. Yet happiness oblivious to pain (human an animal) is cruel, self-centered, and enervating. Happiness worth its stinging salt, slogs through groans, moans, tears, quakes, fear panic, and unbidden but inevitable sufferings.  Happiness looks behind (to the Cross of Christ); it looks ahead (to the return of Christ); it looks within (to Christ with, if...he resident in the soul by regenerating grace); it looks above to Christ on his resplendent Throne; it looks below to the everlasting arms. It listens for the laugh of love, but not without hearing the searing wail of woes untold and uncounted. Love is, love is as strong as death--and stronger still. That thick red blood triumphs over its wounds--but that blood (of Christ, creature, and creation. Thus, I am a against happiness, for happiness, under God.

Spouse A (not chronically ill): I am writing a despair poem.
Spouse B (chronically ill): I do not have time for that.

Who is more pathetic?

This woeful world can rub you raw, raw.

Press on to acknowledge God; pray on to bring God's blessings down--with Christ Jesus as your justification and hope.

Love is the work of a lifetime of receiving grace and giving it.

Sentiment, when mixed with gratitude, makes for beauty.