Alight With Joy

I'm sorry for my long silence. In my last post, I described my search for joy. Since then, I've been so occupied with relishing my joy that I haven't had the time to write. You would think that a person on sabbatical would have plenty of time to write, but that has not been the case. Even now,  I couldn't possibly describe all the beautiful things that have come to me each day, so I will tell you just my favorite story. And then I will show you a few pictures of my favorite moments.

Ever since I answered God's call to quit my corporate job about three years ago to return to teaching, I had not devoted the time to memorize any new scripture passages, nor even to study my existing ones very often. I meditated on scriptures daily in my classroom because it was the only way to keep my sanity, let alone my hope. But I missed my scripture memorization terribly.

For the last couple of months, I've wanted to begin a new passage, but I couldn't choose among so many beautiful scriptures that God had given me these last months through sermons, through cards and messages from friends, through songs in English and Spanish, and even through Uber drivers from all over the world.

Because I had felt so utterly alone, I'd thought to find a passage about angels ministering to me, but somehow that didn't feel right. On Thursday, October 3, I was walking and talking with Jesus in the park as I do virtually every morning. As I drank in the sight of the graceful trees arching over my favorite part of the trail, I reminisced over all the times I had walked this path with my Beloved. "You shared my hardest times and my most beautiful joys," I whispered... because it was a beautiful morning and I wasn't the only person enjoying the park trails.

"You know," I went on, "I really want to start memorizing another passage. It would be so helpful for my mental focus, and you know how I delight in your Word, Beloved. What passage should I-"

In that familiar way that He has, Jesus answered my question before the words had left my mouth. A verse flitted through my mind: These light and momentary trials are achieving for us a glory that far outweighs them all.

"Oh, that's perfect!" I exclaimed. "I know that is exactly what's happening to me right now. Thank you for allowing this trial that feels so endless. I know there is no other way you could help me grow so much in my faith."

I glanced up at the tree with two knobby protuberances that always remind me of pendulous breasts and the ghost of a laugh bubbled up inside me. I walked a few paces in silence and then continued my prayer aloud. "You have always confirmed every memory passage for me, for all these years. I feel sure this is the one, but I will wait for you to confirm it before I begin. I can't wait to see what creative way you use this time."

As I turned back for home, I felt God telling me to send two cards--one thank-you and one sympathy card. I obeyed His instructions immediately because I was still pretty forgetful at that point. [Who am I kidding? I've always been forgetful.]

I went straight to the desk where I used to spend so many hours working from home. There in the old-fashioned cubbies were two cards with no envelopes. I rummaged through all the other cubbies and unearthed a couple of mismatched envelopes that would almost fit. As I pulled them out, my eyes fell on a black composition notebook that had been resting on top of my desk for months. I'd been meaning to reread my gratitude journals so I could remember God's faithfulness to me and have faith that He would continue to be faithful; I snatched up the journal and took in the dates: April to December of 2018.

I made myself write out and mail the cards before I cracked open the journal to a random page. Can you imagine my astonishment when I saw, in my own hand, a reference to the verse I'd just quoted in the park? I'd written about a Francis Chan sermon, about fear, that I'd listened to while grading a stack of tests. "If I can remember that all of my trials are so momentary, then I can rest and be at peace knowing that my rejoicing in heaven will last an eternity. Why get worked up over something so temporary?"

On the next page was a story about my dad making dinner for me after a particularly trying day at school. "He told me about his prayers for me, and said he [believed] the enemy [had been] attacking because a breakthrough [was] coming," I wrote.

Tears filled my eyes. A breakthrough really had been around the corner. I'd written those entries on October 8, 2018, in the middle of my deepest struggles last school year. Just two months later, I found the strength and hope to make it through the long spring semester when I spent Christmas break doing a mental detox from negative thinking. At that time, I blogged about a seed of light that God revealed to me in the Spirit. He told me that the seed was sprouting below the surface of my mind, in the darkness of the rich soil, and that one day it would burst through the ground and shine.

I recognized in that moment, as I read my own journal, that the seed of light was even then breaking through the surface after the two darkest months of my entire life. My heart pounded with wonder. "God, you've never confirmed a passage so quickly," I breathed. "Thank you for light in my darkness."

Looking for My Joy

As I mentioned in my previous posts, my body is in excellent health. My sleep is much better overall, and that means the episodes of mania are fewer and farther between. The mania only occurs when I lose a whole night or nearly a whole night of sleep. Physiologically, chemically, severe insomnia is almost identical to being intoxicated: mania.

The cause of my sleepless nights at this stage is not reactions to food. It is anxiety over being alone for another day, another day, another day. As I mentioned in a previous entry, God is sending me friends, but typically they can only come on the weekend. The neighbors are busy, my family is far, and Allyson is withdrawing from me because she is 13, which is perfectly normal at this stage of adolescence, but she thinks it is because of my illness. That is partly true, but I know from all the mothers in my life that girls usually have conflict with their mothers when they hit puberty. Allyson runs away at the faintest hint of conflict because she is afraid.... afraid of losing me to my illness.

More anxiety arises in me because I also am afraid of losing my daughter. I was so sick for so long, and there were vacations, and I had to stay with my mom and dad for a month, etc. In all of that, Allyson and I were separated. We are struggling to rebuild our relationship, and she keeps leaving every time we have any sort of disagreement. She thinks she is the only teenager whose mom embarrasses her!

This is making me really sad, and my joy has departed. You can't manufacture joy when you are legitimately lonely and heartbroken. You can listen to music. You can exercise. You can walk in the park. You can dance to a catchy tune on the radio. You could ride your bike if you could find a way to get the tires fixed. You can go to Pilates and start your own Zumba class in your house.

You can pray even when you can't feel a hint of God's love even though your head knows He is with you and He is good and He loves you. You can choose to praise Him even though your heart feels like a stone.

Hugs help, but when you are alone you can't get those, except on Wednesday at Bible study and also at church if you go to a church where they know you. Sometimes I lose sleep on the weekends when I am around Allyson and feel rejected, and then I can't drive to my own church 30 minutes away. So I get hugs once a week or so.

I am trying so hard to find joy, but it does not work that way. Joy is like a butterfly. You can watch for it, you can wonder at it when it alights on a bush next to you or even lands on your shoulder. But you can't grab for it. It will fly away. You can't force joy. You have to let it in.

In the past, for many years, I struggled with anxiety. If you've been reading long, you know how I battled that: with scripture. I found scriptures about peace and security, and I read them out loud over and over and over whether I felt safe and peaceful or not. Over the course of three weeks or so, that stubborn anxiety fled. I've had to do the same thing whenever I had a relapse, and I still do it. The sticky notes are still on my kitchen cabinets.

Now I realize I need to do the same thing with joy. This week, the enemy is trying to put depression on me because of my prolonged loneliness and longing for my daughter's love, but I am not going to receive that "gift" from him nor that label. I am going to meditate on scriptures about love and joy and delight; I am going to speak my joy into existence.

I need your help. Will you please comment with your favorite scriptures on joy? I will make more stickies and memory cards, and I will start meditating on joy and thanking God for joy until it is so. However long that takes. God's word is truth; it is Jesus. Jesus is THE way, THE truth, THE life. His Word never returns void. My joy will return, and I will not be grabbing for it. I will be allowing it to alight on me once again, just as it did in Costa Rica this past June.

Please pray also for reconciliation between me and my daughter Allyson. Pray that my grievously wounded heart will heal, and that hers will as well. I would also appreciate any advice from parents who have experienced conflict with their adolescent children, and what they did to get through this painful phase.

Thank you always for reading, for loving me, and for supporting me. I love you.

Recent Picture When Ethan Brought Allyson
to Visit Me at My Mom's House (July 2019)