joy doesn’t always dance.
sometimes joy is just sitting with your son, listening to him tell you about a dream he had – following up with what he thinks God is telling him through that dream
joy doesn’t always laugh
sometimes joy is found in window views of squirrels digging for acorns hidden for winter want or tree scrambles in the sunshine on a winter thaw. joy because God gave the moment to me – like an envelope containing a note of encouragement.
joy doesn’t always burst into song
sometimes joy is a choosing thing – in the midst of schedules broken like a carton of eggs and your eyes cross just figuring out how you’ll get it all done when the math says it can’t be – and it starts a spring storm in the middle of winter when my umbrella’s at home – and He washes away the soil of the days wear and tear, helping me see that sometimes broken schedules are just handcuffs unlocked – that everything contains love notes from Him – if I choose to open them, to read them – to find the joy within them!
joy doesn’t always kiss
sometimes joy is a sitting together thing – no big thoughts, no solution seeking, no bursts of great shakespearian passion or familial revelation – just star gazing in the black night, wrapped up in a blanket movie-watching together, porch swinging, – when the everyday living just runs off like rain water on roof-top eaves
joy opportunities aren’t always obvious.
do you get that – it’s the opportunity – are you taking it?
are you inviting Him into it?
it’s not just the wild apple ginger tea – it’s that He joins me there.
it’s not just a sunshine and blue sky walk on a warm afternoon – it’s that He joins me there
or the suds in the sink of dirty dishes
or clean, warm towels out of the dryer
a moment where suddenly everything goes right – at least for a moment
or a moment where everything goes wrong- when I invite Him – He joins me there
and He always brings just exactly what I need to turn any moment into a joy moment.
joy opportunities are sometimes ordinary, out-of-the-box creations of unexpectedness
like breakfast pizza, tulips in winter, or not using capitol letters on a writing adventure