I was sitting in church on Easter morning, my second Easter since my beloved wife of 35 years, Kay, passed away from pancreatic cancer almost two years ago. I was thinking of the hope I continue to find in Christ since her passing.
After a painful experience, hope often feels fragile. I have learned to allow joy to begin in small moments. It might be a bird singing outside a window, a kind word from a stranger, or a sunset painted across the sky. I’ve had to give myself permission to smile when laughter comes, even if it feels unfamiliar. Hope does not burst in all at once; it grows through noticing these gifts and letting your heart be touched again.
Pain tempts us to withdraw, but healing happens in connection. I’ve learned to surround myself with people who are kind, patient and willing to walk with me through the valleys. This could be close friends, teammates from the office or a church community. Honest conversations, shared laughter and simple companionship can ease the loneliness pain often brings. Relationships remind us that we are not alone — and being loved, even in our brokenness, helps rekindle joy.
Sometimes loss leaves a space in our lives that feels empty – but that space can also become a place of new beginnings. Many people discover fresh purpose after a painful season: mentoring others, creating art, volunteering, learning new skills or traveling to new places. Exploring new passions doesn’t mean we forget what we lost; it means we allow ourselves to continue growing. Purpose can be a powerful source of renewed joy, lighting a new path forward even when the old one has ended.
I’m also convinced that healing is not complete without a spiritual dimension. When circumstances shake everything else, faith becomes an anchor. Drawing closer to God through prayer, Scripture, worship and fellowship offers a joy that is not dependent on external circumstances. It’s a joy that flows from knowing we are deeply loved, even in brokenness, and that our life has eternal meaning. Moments of quiet in God’s presence, or of worship that lifts the soul, bring profound joy that earthly things cannot match.
Perhaps one of the greatest lessons after pain is that joy and sorrow are not enemies. They can coexist within the same heart. We don’t have to erase grief to experience joy again. In fact, the sorrow deepens the sweetness of laughter, the beauty of simple pleasures, and the tenderness of love. The most profound joy is not found in forgetting pain but in learning to live fully in its aftermath — loving, hoping, and giving once more.
Joy after pain isn’t about returning to who we were before. It’s about becoming someone stronger, more compassionate, and more alive.
I’m finding joy in life again, even though I miss having my best friend at my side. Perhaps, like me, your life has not quite worked out as you had planned. Trust me, you can find joy again. God has not forgotten you. Easter reminds us that when all hope was lost, Hope conquered even death!
Find Hope again. Find Joy again.
— Terry Dorsett is executive director-treasurer of the Baptist Churches of New England.