Those days that seem so long, you can’t wait until the man walks through that door that’s still waiting to be painted.
Those days that feel like a long week of failures, and there is no man to walk in that door to give you a break to keep you from breaking.
Those days when you’re not sure you want that man to walk in the door because there’s still an unresolved issue between you.
Those days when everyone has pulled on you, cried on you, yelled at you, thrown up on you or some ugly combination of the joy-sucking life.
The maid doesn’t show up because you never hired her- that’s only a dream to have someone help you a few hours a week with the piles of procreating dishes and laundry. You speak no-nonsense words to your complaining four-year-old. Of course, he has to put away the silverware again because he ate again and made them dirty.
Dinner must be started and cereal sounds nice.
Where has all the joy gone? The crazy dancing in the kitchen, the boy who smiled and asked if you know what one of his favorite things is about you, and the kid that asked you for a hug and how old you are for the one-hundredth time–even though he knows? The boy who opened the doors on your coffee date tells you that one of his favorite things about you is that you smile a lot. His card says that you are a happy mom.
The children argue over whether the first shove was even a shove because it was more like a bump in a tight hallway.
Big, fat tears slip from the eyes of the sensitive child so quickly you wonder if they were just waiting for a prompt. This boy has the biggest heart of mercy you’ve ever witnessed in your life, and all because you made a comment about a poor job in something, you crushed him. Your heart squeezes painfully and you wish so badly you could take it back. You can only acknowledge that it’s not okay– it’s not okay at all–and was an awful thing to say, as you ask for forgiveness and congratulate him on being better at something than you are. And it doesn’t feel like enough. Not nearly enough.
In fact, there really is never enough of anything to go around. Energy. Positivity. Encouragement. Gentleness. Grace. All those things that a beautiful mother should exemplify–hard days and mundane cycles of glorious nothing seem to have flushed them down the toilet the little boys still miss.
If there’s no fighting back, the joy will keep seeping out of the cracks kicked into your life bucket full of goodness, blessing and beauty so fast you won’t even realize it’s bone dry until you have yourself a good little adult tantrum. Those moments are okay too. Out of the mouths of babes, “Mom, sometimes it feels so good to cry.” Sometimes life is just really, really (to the one-hundredth power) hard. Sometimes it’s the necessary grieving of loss in life needed to move on in one broken, yet beautiful piece. Don’t try to hide the mended, scarred areas of healed hurt because they are the most beautiful encouragement to others that most reflect God’s redemption in your life.
Sometimes it’s not anything huge. It’s just a lot of little things when piled together, feel like the life has been sucked out of you. People will tell you to go to a spa, to seclude yourself in a peaceful place, to love yourself. Do what you love. Follow your heart.
While pursuing your creative outlet, taking a timeout, and doing something you love can produce some momentary happiness, you’re not going to sweat out the toxic, needy people in the sauna or find your joy as you row your boat gently down the stream.
Seeking joy is a spiritual journey of purposeful decisions to seek the One that manufacturers joy. Do you go to McDonald’s to get your Starbucks fix? Searching at the wrong source will leave you constantly disappointed. My quick fixes that focus on happiness are as spiritually fulfilling as a fake flavored coffee when I had my heart set on an authentic latte. Decisions, decisions. Choose all day, every day, to focus on God’s goodness. Remember His previous answers to your seeking, and you will bask in His blessings as you encounter joy–even in the praises amidst heartache and emptiness.
I choose to revel in the dimples of the toddler that yawns after he has called me back to his bed first, to read a book, second to pray, third to tell me that monsters really are real, fourth to ask for a drink, and fifth to sing songs– especially Jesus Loves Me, but Twinkle, Twinkle too. I want to get some laundry done and I want this day to be over. But I don’t know how many times he’ll ask me to sing with him. Just like the phase when he’d wake up in the middle of the night and ask me to pray for him so he didn’t have more bad dreams and then to sing to him had ended. (Singing at 3:00 a.m. is annoying, even for someone that can carry a tune.) But, the bad dreams stopped. I don’t know when he won’t want to call me back–again–for a hug, a kiss, or another song. I kiss his cheek as he asks me for the umpteenth time why he can’t see Jesus and when he will. Not too soon, I hope.
Another day and another chance to show grace. To give thanks for every single, tiny, ray of blessing under the sun that showers our day mingled with heavy drops of ugly words, attitudes, frustration and constant overwhelm. We create rainbows with grace and thanksgiving.
Another moment of forgiveness for the man that did us wrong, as we remember our joy doesn’t depend on the jean-clad man.
Another day of cut grass brought inside from the 12 feet that just danced under the sprinkler.
Another chance to bask in the compliments to the chef for a dinner together.
Another million hugs, kisses, prayers and croaky songs while experiencing all the pure joys in one sweet boy.
Seeking God continually and praising Him in thanksgiving while experiencing the ugly mundane and heartwrenching pain, will only result in filling the heart with unspeakable joy that dismisses circumstances as irrelevant.
Choose pure joy–found in a million different unexpected places.