Everyday Life: There is joy

There is joy.

It is wild and spread out like fields of unexpected wildflowers rolling up hills and stretching out across meadows. Sharp bursts of lemon and violet polkadotting the lush greens of fields.

Photo courtesy of Corrin.

There is joy, and it cannot be stolen unless I first give it away.

Unless


I first 


give it


away. 

I steal my own joy, rob myself barren of it when I worry-wander into tomorrow while I'm still living in today.

What sense does it make to live in tomorrow's fears?

Fears that might never and will probably never unfold into realities?

Something happened this weekend, after the suffocating what-if waves began lapping at my feet

and I toyed with wading far into the worry-waters.

When I turned turned my back on that sprawling sea of uncertainty,

ran uphill,

fell to my knees

and opened my hands to the Giver of Good gifts,

I began to not just see the good gifts given, the many good gifts given, but I began to more intimately trust the Giver who keeps giving the good gifts.

I soaked up words from Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts, and I realized it was true, what she's written:

"The quiet song of gratitude, eucharisteo, lures humility out of the shadows because to receive a gift the knees must bend humble and hand must lie vulnerably open and the will must bow to accept whatever the Giver chooses to give.
Again, always, and always again: eucharisteo precedes the miracle."

The miracle, for me, is having eyes that can see joy spread out in the moment,

joy saturating the spanning seconds of today,

joy not stolen by the what ifs of tomorrow.

I've been so greedy.

I've been trying to unwrap gifts before they are given.

In my worry, I've been trying to see the potential dips and valleys that might be waiting in a new day with no more light than that of the moon; I've been trying to see the lay of the land ahead of me while its still, from my view, encompassed in shadows.

There is joy, radiant and saturating. 

And it dawns when the sun rises to shed real light on the day unfolding at the foot of the horizon, when palms are turned up and opened ready to receive the gift as the light inches higher and higher, moment by moment.

Thinking, That's All: Awakening

There is light at the end, but today I pray for wide-angle vision.

I don't want to waste it away -- the time -- on waiting to live fully only in the fullness of light.

I want to see, live nestled inside these moments with little boys who only want to snuggle their mommy and serve her pretend sparkling wine from the restaurant of imagination.

I don't want to lose it to the darkness of anxiety-laced thoughts about MRIs and ENTs and MDs and whatever follows those letters and their diagnosis.

I cry-pray rest enough to unclench white knuckles from clinging to my life.

I cry-pray hot tears, sink my hands into the low back of a black kitchen chair and feel two small arms wrap around my thigh, a head press against the side of my hip.

I weep quietly for a few moments and usher out breath from my shaking lungs, squeezing tightly the shoulders of my oldest son.


I won't go there.

I won't go to the places where I'm drowning deep in the waters of picturing his life, his brother's life, his father's life if the what-ifs were to unfold.

I stand my ground against diving into the waters and then force jelly-like legs to move into the wide-angle frame of life outside the tunnel in which I'm standing.

He follows me around the house, stays close enough in his play that he could dive in after me if I jump.

At not even five, he thinks he's lifeguard to my wild-toddler-at-the-shore moments.

And I know I have to move away from the sand, the beach, the lure of drowning myself in what-if waves and stand firmly on the Rocks

my back to the ocean face toward the Sun glowing in the horizon of tall grasses and little boys and a strong-heart husband and this life-gift spread out before my eyes.

This piece was inspired by the Bigger Picture Blogs Writing Circles prompt "awakening" in the Life-Out Loud genre. It was edited after critique from fellow writers. Join a Writing Circle and take part in the writing process at a whole new level!


A few friends have said I was too vague in this post and asked for explanation to the MRI references. I've had some lingering head pressure issues we thought were stemming from sinuses ... but my sinuses are clear. A specialist suggested doing an MRI to see if we can find what's causing the pressure. It's probably bothing but as someone who battles anxiety, the unknown can grow if I let it.