Joyful Sorrow - a Column by Kristin Neva

“I keep pulling it out — the old map of my inner path,” Joyce Rupp writes in her poem “Old Maps No Longer Work.” I was introduced to Rupp’s poem on a spiritual retreat five years ago. Her words resonated with me then, five years past my husband…

When I was a child, my elderly great-aunt Martha joined my family every Christmas Eve to participate in gift opening. I felt bad that she only got one present while my brothers and I received so many. But she seemed happy with the pair of slippers or homemade ornaments my…

After our second child was born — back when my husband, Todd, had an undiagnosed weak left arm — we purchased a used minivan. We found the van on Craigslist and drove two hours to purchase it. Six months later, Todd was diagnosed with ALS. We made plans to…

Nine months after my husband, Todd, was diagnosed with ALS, he entered a social media contest with a $100,000 grand prize to use to fulfill a dream. Contestants with the most votes advanced to the next round. Todd’s dream was to build a handicapped-accessible home near my parents. The home…

I found a walking buddy, and he’s teaching me how to live with my husband’s ALS. When my gym closed, I turned to cross-country skiing every day. When the snow melted, I took up Nordic walking around our fields. One day, returning from my walk, I went to check…

I thought my husband, Todd, should quit driving long before he was ready to hang up the keys. When ALS had weakened his left arm and right hand, he would get gas from a full-service station. I questioned whether he should be driving when he couldn’t pump gas for himself.

Ten years ago today, my husband, Todd, was diagnosed with ALS. I’m grateful that our kids have had their dad much longer than we thought they would. When Todd was diagnosed, Sara was 4, and Isaac was just 9 months old, so we thought they might not even remember him.

I cried buckets in the months after my husband, Todd, was diagnosed with ALS. When I met with a counselor, I described my overwhelming sadness. “It is sad,” he agreed. “When you read stories, they have happy parts and sad parts. This is a sad part of your story.”…

On Memorial Day, my mom, the kids, and I visited Lakeside Cemetery in Hancock, Michigan. My mom and the kids left in time to attend the Memorial Day service. I arrived late, just as it concluded, because I needed to help Todd in the bathroom and then…

A few years before my husband, Todd, was diagnosed with ALS, he baked a cake for a church fundraiser with one hand while our infant daughter slept on her stomach across his other forearm, her head cradled in his hand. It was impressive enough that he could make the traditional…