what joy...

This season is a bittersweet time. Sweet for some and bitter for others. The end of the year has a great way of making us reflect, and depending on how your year has gone, you may be weeping with tears of joy or sobbing with tears of sorrow. I totally get it. I've been there in both ways.

Christmas is a sweet season for me, and it always has been. I look back on my hardest year and even that Christmas was a blessing in many ways. But in 2012, Aaron made the most of the holiday to plan out an elaborate 12 days of Christmas proposal that concluded on Christmas night with a ring and a question. A question I began hoping he would ask me not long after we met. A question that changed the course of my life, for the rest of my life. That night, I laid in bed thinking about what a stark difference that Christmas had been from the year before. Because 365 days earlier, I was laying in bed on Christmas night with a hurting but hopeful heart that was quite uncertain of God's plans for me.

On Sunday morning our pastor preached from Psalm 126. This one is near and dear to me as I found comfort in the promise of its verses many years ago. God often chooses the regular moments of life to teach me and speak to me. It's usually the ordinary, quiet, and simple times. A small thing, kind of like the whisper on the mountain when He revealed His glory to Moses. Not often has God sent a flaming bush my way, although those moments are certainly welcome! But it's usually in the mundane moments of life, when I'm not expecting it, that God brings his word to my mind and my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude every time he speaks.

When the Lord brought back his exiles to Jerusalem,
it was like a dream!
We were filled with laughter, 
and we sang for joy.
And the other nations said, 
"What amazing things the Lord has done for them."
Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for us!
What joy!

Restore our fortunes, Lord, 
as streams renew the desert.
Those who plant in tears
will harvest with shouts of joy.
They weep as they go plant their seed,
but they sing as they return with the harvest.

Psalm 126 (The Message)

Annabeth and I started our morning with a visit to the doctor. A quick check up from a diagnosed ear infection a few weeks prior. A clean bill of health was received, and we pointed our car towards the closet Chick-fil-A as we left the clinic parking lot. In case you were wondering, the best time to visit Chick-fil-A is around 9:30 on a weekday morning. The parking lot was virtually empty, a rare site to see. We placed our order and our food was ready before we had even picked our a table in the nearly empty restaurant. Window seats provide the best distraction for my little one who refused to eat anything that didn't come from the extra fruit cup on our tray. Fine by me. That meant more chicken biscuits for momma! I cut all of the fruit into tiny pieces for her little fingers to grab while making small talk. Story of my life. This is what my day looks like every day. It's not fancy or exciting. I tote a tiny gal around from place to place, doing my best to keep her safe, happy, and healthy. I'm often found with remnants of dry goldfish crackers on my shoulders or dried boogies on my sleeves. Some days I look more put together than others, and most days I'm tired. Not being a high energy person myself, God saw it fit to bless me with a precious babe who goes about a hundred miles a minute. All day. And so we just try to find things to keep ourselves busy until that glorious moment around 5:30PM when our hero walks through the back door. When the cavalry arrives! I certainly don't lead a glamorous life. It's nothing to write home about. But it's the life God has given me, and as I pulled my sweet sugar out of her cracker crumb infested car seat when we got home, she wrapped her little arms around my neck, I kissed her cheek, and I thought to myself, "If it weren't for all those years ago, I wouldn't have you!"

The time in the valley happens. The hard moments, they come. We can't avoid them no matter how much we try. And when it was me, I found great comfort knowing that it was okay to cry. To weep. To despair and feel heavy hearted. There's no issue with our tears, but it matters what we do with them. They say the valley often has the most fertile soil. It also receives the least amount of light. It's cooler, it's darker. But it's a place to plant. A place where we can bury our tears confidently at the feet of our good Shepherd as he leads us through it. It's not wasted space. It's actually necessary. And the promise is that when we sow with tears, we will - not might, or maybe, or perhaps - we WILL reap a harvest of joy! What a trade off, am I right? We plant the very thing we don't want in faith that God will work it all out for good, and then we collect something we could have never accomplished on our own. Joy and goodness from the bitter seed left underground. A harvest to sing about! A harvest for which we give shouts of praise!

I planted so many seeds that were watered with tears. Seeds that are still being harvested! God grows them as he sees fit, and at the right time, allows me to harvest the beautiful produce he grew. Things I had desired, things I had asked, and even things I had forgotten about until he brings them back to mind. And as I relished in the short moment of my baby's precious embrace, I realized that she is part of my harvest. This life I live, the one I so often take for granted, is part of that harvest. Of a promise that, in due time, God would bear something fruitful from the tears that were planted. That weeping would turn into joy and the sorrow into gladness.

Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for me! What joy!

Comments

Popular Posts