My friend, having grieved infertility for years,
Said that, for the first time, she could hold in tension
Both the grief of that one dream unfulfilled
And the opportunity of all other dreams possible.
She called that growth. In Christianese: improvement.
But I reject the idea that grief was the wrong response
That she corrected with greater maturity,
Rather than a right response to a legitimate sorrow
That, in the fullness of time, now allows space for the next thing.
It is still faithful to enter into mourning.
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