joy – She Speaks True Words

Potential.

I do not have a green thumb whatsoever. For as long as I can remember, I have been terrible at keeping plants alive. I tend to forget to water them, then over-water them when I get around to it. This doesn’t always stop me from attempting, and this year I accepted the challenge when I purchased a beautiful flowering plant for my back patio.

The scorching summer sun has been beating into it, and each morning I try to pour just a little water to dampen the plant, crossing my fingers I won’t drown it or find it wilting the next day. As I stared at my plant with its small pink flowers this morning, I was reminded of something Hannah shared with me earlier this spring. She filled out something at the end of the school year sharing what she learned, and one of the things she wrote was, “It takes time and effort to achieve your goals.” Such wise words for an eight-year-old.

Hannah has been working hard at mastering several gymnastics skills and has grown leaps and bounds since she started the sport a year ago. While it’s a little terrifying to see her tackling such moves with no fear, I am very proud of Hannah. I love seeing her set her heart and mind to working hard and growing, pouring herself into something she loves. She is seeing the reward for the time and effort she puts in, and it encourages her to push harder.

As I look at Hannah tackling gymnastics or Hailey at dance, and as I see the growth of my blooming plant, I am reminded of the potential within myself. The past couple years I have given myself permission to push the easy button in several areas (OK let’s be honest, just about every area) of my life. It’s been a whirlwind, and I have allowed myself to get caught up in it, giving myself grace to simply survive and get through it. And while some days I still feel like I am struggling to catch my breath, needing to hold onto a floatation device to keep my head above the water, I am finally feeling like I can swim on my own.

For too long, I have felt stuck, as I try to navigate my way and look ahead to what’s next rather than focusing on the present. David was so good at simply letting things be as they are, finding joy in the simple moments of the everyday, and it’s something I continue to strive for. Honestly, it’s probably something I will always seek more of, being mindfully present and joyful in the gifts God has given me. In yoga, you are constantly reminded to focus on the breath and practice mindfulness. To acknowledge your thoughts without judgment and release them, coming back to the breath. It is what grounds you and reminds you of what matters. In my breath, I feel focused. I come back to the present; I come back to joy and the gifts God has given me; I come back to who I am.

Who I am is so much more than what I give myself credit for, and I know that. It’s easy to get caught up in the everyday, the to-dos, the what-ifs and the “where is this all going” questions. Who I am is a blooming plant with potential for beauty and growth. Who I am needs nurturing, just like my daughter, just like the plant I am trying to keep alive, both with patience and love. The scorching of the sun and life’s challenges will beat down on me, but I don’t have to let myself hide in the shade or drown in the water. Slowly, I can take care of and believe in myself. I can see the gifts in my life for what they are. I can choose to nurture them and spend the time and effort working on them so I can reach my goals. Daring to dream and believe again feels scary and yet inspiring and joy-filled at the same time.

I started a book earlier this year, and I know my brain is going to tell me to avoid it, to press the easy button or give up, but I know that I don’t want to. Like all good things, it requires time, effort and a lot of self-love, patience and nurturing to achieve my goals.

I see the potential within myself. Not just as a writer but as who I am. I am wired for creativity, for passion, for love, for speaking truth, for encouragement, for reckless abandon. Deep down is the girl within me who sees just how beautiful this life can be when you embrace it, when you let your hair down, when you invite in the beauty of connection and friendships, when you seize adventures and live with less fear and more trust.

That’s the potential for this life I see and long for. And I can’t wait for the ride.

Joy comes in the morning.

Joy comes in the morning. Even after sorrow, even after the depths of mourning. We are promised that joy is there. God’s presence is there. Hope rises and is within us.

When you’ve been in the depths of grief and survival mode for so long, finding your way out feels unfamiliar. It feels like you can’t quite trust it, and you wonder if you will lose it at the drop of a hat. The thing I’ve come to realize about grief is that yes, even though I feel like I have come a long way, it is not linear. I don’t follow a straight path where I’m walking away from my grief. Where I simply can leave it behind. Grief follows a winding path; it takes you on twists and turns you don’t expect.

It’s been over two years since we’ve lost David, and I still experience him in my everyday life: his faith, his playfulness and his love ingrained in me and how I raise our girls. I see him in them every day, parts of his personality and who he was in their eyes and their smiles. The sadness and the ache and the grief still exist, they just change over time. You no longer feel it in the depths of your being and your bones, but your heart still misses what was and what could have been. I miss David and the life we could have shared together, but I also know that he is with me now even in the little things. I know that he wants a bright future for me and the girls and is watching over us.

Today, I feel hope for the future. Hope for what God has in store for me. There’s a sense of guilt in letting go and choosing joy, like I should stay in the depths of grief and mourning forever. But I know that’s not what Dave would have wanted and I know it’s not what God wants for me, either. He wants me to believe in His promises. He wants to hold me and guide me into his good and beautiful gifts. And I know Dave is watching over all his girls every step of the way.

Earlier this year, God brought someone into my life that allowed me to find hope for happiness again. I knew it was a risk putting myself out there, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I allowed myself to fall, to feel, to let myself be on a relationship journey again. And as hard as it was when things didn’t work out, I know that it needed to be that way. It allowed me to hope, to believe in a bright future, despite everything I’ve been through. God continues to show me that he wants what is good and best for me. And I know that I deserve his gifts, to enjoy this life that he has given me.

Today, I am grateful for so many things. I am grateful for counseling for helping me feel more like myself than I have in a really long time. My heart feels stronger and more secure. I feel a sense of peace in the present. I am grateful for the opportunities of new beginnings. Of the possibilities of what lies ahead. The future is uncertain, but it is also filled with so much love and support from those I care about.

Today, I am grateful for hope. For the gift of life. And the joy in what’s to come.

Image by Katharina N. from Pixabay

Happiness.

I turned 40 this year…and while it’s a big milestone, I don’t feel a whole lot of changes or major feelings about it. To me, age is a number, but each year brings about new opportunities, a chance to reflect and look back on who you’ve been and a chance to look forward on who you want to be.

The past couple years have been challenging for sure and have brought about a lot of major life changes that I never anticipated. I have thought that I would be in a different place in my life right now…but I know that I am where I am supposed to be. God has brought me through so much and continues to be with me through everything.

This year has brought about changes already. I keep thinking about the journal the girls got me for my birthday. Thanks to a good friend, they picked out a beautiful journal that says “Be happy” on the front. I haven’t yet filled it, as I have another journal I’m still writing in, but I look forward to filling it with words of hope.

I have chosen to focus on being happy this year…making positive changes and looking forward to what lies ahead. I have been able to focus on taking care of myself and making decisions that have allowed me to be a better version of myself. Accepting that I cannot face the challenges on my own, I have been seeing a counselor, which has allowed me to process more than I thought possible and afforded me the opportunity to have even more hope. To choose joy in the midst of the chaos. To accept life’s struggles for what they are and not dwell in them. To be happy in the midst of it all.

People tell me that I am so strong for what I’ve been through…and while I really don’t like to be told to be strong or that I am strong, I do see that within me. To me, strength isn’t a virtue but a choice. It is a choice to keep carrying on, to put one foot in front of the other, to have faith in what lies ahead. To trust that you are not alone. To seek help when you need it. Being strong means being vulnerable. It means asking for help even when you don’t want to. Strength lies not within ourselves, but in trusting in and surrendering to the process. Trusting that God is with us, that we can do anything through him and he is walking beside us through all of the challenges we face.

Today, I feel strong because I have come a long way. I have faced insurmountable challenges. I have chosen to believe. I have a community of people who have helped carry me through. I am trusting in the process, I am believing that God has good and beautiful gifts for me and my girls. I see the beauty of every day, and I am thankful and happy for what he has given me.

To those who have helped carry me, thank you. I couldn’t be where I am today without you. To those who have prayed for me from afar, thank you for silently holding me up. Your prayers have been powerful and effective in giving me hope. To those who have come by my side in times of need, thank you. For loving me and helping me and giving me strength when I have needed it.

Today, I am happy. Tomorrow might be hard but I will still choose to believe. Despite what might come my way, I can choose joy. I can choose to believe and know that God is with me. I can choose to believe in God’s promises and hope for the future. I look forward to what lies ahead and know that I deserve happiness. I am so incredibly grateful for who God has made me and who he will continue to make me to be. His kingdom has come into my heart and life and will continue to pour out into my future.

The kingdom of God is within us and giving us hope for today, tomorrow and forever. For that, for hope, for joy, for all of it, I am eternally grateful.

Surrender.

I love watching my girls dance. There is something about the uninhibited, pure joy they express in surrender to themselves, to the music, to experiencing the depths of the joy in the moment. When I watch them dance, I sometimes feel the urge to join in (and sometimes I do!) and find myself in that same surrender of self.

Surrender…as adults, we are much more inhibited. Surrender feels like a lack of control. It feels like we are not trusting in or are giving up a part of ourselves. Like we can no longer grasp tightly to our plans, or change our life circumstances. Surrender feels like the last thing we want.

The past few months have felt like I am forcing myself to let go of my own plans. I’ve felt more of the “elephant on my chest” anxious moments, as I don’t know what to expect with life’s unknowns and hardships from one day to the next. The waves of grief and anxiety come and go, and I find myself not wanting to surrender. I give into the distractions, the busyness, the headlines.

Surrender.

In spite of my urge to control and resist surrender, I am feeling a strong tug on my heart to let go of my own agenda. To stop, to breathe, to be still.

I am not so good at being still. As an overthinker my mind has a hard time slowing down. I find myself having difficulty surrendering to the moment, to the present. Yet I feel God’s calming presence and voice telling me to stop running. Stop hurrying. Surrender to the joy of the moment. Even when life is hard and messy and there are so many unknowns. Surrender to His love, His presence, His truth.

Finding joy doesn’t have to be about having a positive attitude all the time. But rather, acknowledging my feelings, the hardness of the things I am dealing with, and then letting them not define me. Surrendering myself to the moment. The gifts of the day. Letting things be as they are, knowing that I am exactly where I need to be. That I am not alone but surrounded. By people going through their own stories, by those who love me and care for me. By a loving God who wants nothing but to pour out His kindness and show me His beauty and His loving guidance and protection.

Peace, I have come to realize, doesn’t come from life being devoid of hard things. It comes from trust. It comes from surrender. It comes from knowing that God is the light in our darkness. He is walking alongside us. I am so grateful for His calming presence. His everlasting promises. His goodness poured out.

Today I surrender. And tomorrow I will too. And again and again. To being still. To knowing love. And the peace that lasts, carrying me through, allowing me to find a pure, uninhibited joy.

Grateful for the beauty of creation and the calming peace of God’s presence in the midst of the storms.

Sparks.

One of my favorite things to do on the 4th of July as a kid was to light sparklers and twirl them outside, writing my name into the dusk and watching the sparks fly off the tip into the air. There was a thrill as the sparks flew and the sparkler grew darker as the light quickly faded toward my fingertips.

Sparks. The best word I can use to describe the feeling of nerve pain. It is like tiny sparks, almost like mini fireworks, shooting off throughout your body. I broke my foot in the spring of 2018, of course doing something as simple as going up the stairs of my house. It was Hannah’s bedtime, and I knew as soon as I slipped and landed on the outside edge of my foot that something was definitely not right.

Sure enough, I had broken a bone on the outside of my foot. Eight weeks in a boot. Four glorious weeks riding a scooter around my office. And by glorious it wasn’t but I’m sure I gave a lot of people something to smile at. 🙂

As my foot started to heal I noticed a tingling sensation in my foot creeping up my leg. I assumed it would get better after I got out of my boot, but it only got worse, with the pain radiating into my hip, lower back and up my spine. The tingling even went into my head. Neurologically, everything checked out fine. My foot was fine. And yet I wasn’t feeling fine. Everyone I talked to, from a chiropractor to two neurologists to a physical therapist, was stumped by my symptoms. On a whim I tried acupuncture a little over a year ago, and he had an idea as to what could be causing my problem. While it wasn’t a cure all, he was the first person who was able to provide some semblance of answers and mild relief.

Nerve pain reminds me a lot of grief. An invisible pain carried around inside the body. A sharp pain that comes and goes in its unpredictability. A wrong stretch about a week ago has set me back in my nerve pain, but I have to trust in my body and in myself to heal. And I have to be patient with the process and not feel bad about the pain, but just let it be what it is. And give myself grace to rest.

Pain in all of its forms – grief and otherwise – is carried around in our bodies. It is easy to convince ourselves that we are alone in our suffering, perhaps because we don’t want to burden others with it. And because others can’t see our pain, we think that no one else could possibly understand what we are going through. It feels easier somehow to carry our unique pain alone, to hide it within ourselves, rather than to be vulnerable and let others in.

This sense of martyrdom isn’t earning us any sainthood points, and it certainly isn’t making our lives any easier. The only thing we are gaining is an increased loneliness. If there’s one thing I have learned from the past several months since losing David and living in the time of a global pandemic, it is that I absolutely cannot carry my burdens alone. No matter how much the sparks of pain fly within me, I am in need of community now more than ever.

One of the highs of my week is a virtual small group of ladies who meets to share life, speak truth, read the Good Word and pray for and encourage one another. It is my lifeline in this dark season. These ladies are there for me when the sparks of pain come, whether manifesting themselves in grief, anxiety or otherwise. I am so grateful for the faith, hope, joy and laughter we bring into each others’ lives.

In spite of the hard, the messy, the sparks that fly and burn my skin, I see the light that the sparkler gives off. I find myself reaching for joy and hope in the midst of the pain. The little girl within me still believes in good and beautiful things, and she reaches for another sparkler to dance with to light up the sky.