Windows open wide today and I can hear the whirl of the hummingbird flying to the feeder midday, crickets singing in unison and the squawk of a lone bird after dark. My oven stays on most of the day. Yummy smells waft through the house. As I celebrate the entrance of Fall, my heart turns to someone ready to meet Jesus face to face. A different kind of celebration.
I take a peek at some favorite places of community online in between the cooking and the cleaning up. As I read here, my heart stirs and tears spill over dirty dishwater. My hands: parched from labor. My feet: ache from the standing. And I am thankful. Thankful that I can stand without pain, breathe freely, cook for my family unhindered, organize and sweep my garage, ride bikes with my son and feel the breeze on my face.
Because Sara, she hasn’t left the walls of her apartment in days too long to remember. A walk in Walgreens became too painful. A simple shower, like conquering a mountain. Yet, her spirit overrides the obstacles of chronic illness. She chooses joy over pain. Even at the end of her days.
And I wonder if I could illustrate this kind of joy. Could I look past my own pain, circumstances and exhibit that kind of grace if put to the test? Could you?
I pray to leave that kind of legacy that gives courage to others. Embedded courage flowing from a heart entwined with the heart of God.
H and I gathered with his family in the bedroom of his parent’s home at the request of his Dad. His days were numbered and he had something he wanted to say to each of one of us. We circled around his borrowed hospital bed. Hearts anticipating sorrow.
Tucked under starched sheets and propped up on pillows, my father-in-law wiped tears from underneath the round metal frames, smiled content, spoke blessings in the midst of pain. Looked straight in the eyes of each person, called us by name and chose joy. Story telling provoked laughter and grace filled the room.
Is joy really a choice?
Tell me about a time you chose joy in the midst of circumstance.