Joy::Third Sunday:Advent

I {LOVE} Sunday::to count it all joy...

Count it all joy, my brothers [and sisters],
when you meet trials of various kinds,
for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.
And let steadfastness have its full effect,
that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

James 1:2-4

{With the Sunday Community at Lisha's #GiveMeGrace }

The best day ever...

I shared this story from 4 years ago at the women's study at church last week. How often do we -- do I -- complain about what I don't have and then fail to rejoice at God's goodness to others? I've never forgotten this - how 4yo Gavin demonstrated what it means to rejoice with those who rejoice, even when -- especially when -- there's nothing in it for me.

Celebrating Mason's birthday with all four grand-littles together -- for three delightful hours on a Sunday afternoon -- was pure joy.    

They are gifts of immeasurable worth -- each one of them, and I'm inspired by their examples of an innocent faith and joy in the simple pleasures of life.

With individual and unique personalities and character traits, they are both a challenge to parent (and grandparent) and a source of great delight and entertainment -- keeping us on our knees one moment and rejoicing in laughter and God's blessings the next.

Four and a half year old Gavin is a perfect example. There's no denying it -- he can be a handful. Strong willed, rambunctious and not the most compliant little boy, yet I've never seen a child be happier with any gift he is given or be a more cheerful giver than Gavin. Though he wants them back when the game is over, he often plays at giving his toys away as gifts. 

Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

At Mason's party, Gavin watched with excitement as both Mason and two year old Austin opened gifts from the family. Not once did he sulk or complain that there were no gifts for him. If I had been Gavin, I might have felt sorry for myself -- the only one, except for six month old Addisyn, to not have a present to open. But standing in the middle of all the excitement, the floor littered with wrapping paper and most of Mason's and Austin's gifts opened, Gavin happily declared, "This is the best day ever."

I want to be more like Gavin -- a cheerful giver who wholeheartedly rejoices at the gifts of others.

Photos: that delightful Sunday afternoon and this mimi with all four grand-littles - Austin, Mason, Addisyn and Gavin.

To remain a victim...

If we're willing,
God is our song when we are happy,
our escape when we are tempted,
our hope when we're despairing,
our joy in tribulation,
our strength in weakness,
and our immortality in dying.
Ultimately...
He Himself is our health.
Beth Moore, Mercy Triumphs

If we're willing.  If. I'm. Willing.

And if I'm not? I'm choosing to remain a victim of circumstance - a choice to reject the wholeness and health that Christ Himself has offered.  

To count it all joy...

I'm sitting in the book of James these days when he tells me to...

Count it all joy...
when you meet trials of various kinds,
for you know that the testing of your faith
produces steadfastness.
And let steadfastness have its full effect,
that you may be perfect and complete,
lacking in nothing.
James 1:2-4

....and the trials of various kinds come knocking.  

Since May 1, I've seen the plastic surgeon three times to have a cyst removed from my face, had lab work twice, a repeat thyroid ultrasound, and a dexa scan. I've made three visits to the orthopedic surgeon's office, including x-rays of my knees and three injections in one knee with two more injections to go. I've seen the rheumatologist and endocrinologist, and I leave these visits with more suggested treatment options.

And each of these appointments have been at least an hour's drive from Pollywog Creek.

The coups de grâce - I have an itchy rash on my legs, neck and face that makes me want to rip my skin off.  

It's obvious, don't you think? I'm allergic to doctors.

And I'm losing my mind. I actually scheduled one of those appointments and a meeting with a new girlfriend who is working with me on a writing project for church at the same time I was supposed to be leading Bible study.

Mercy.

But you know what? God is still good. He has revealed himself in a multitude of ways throughout this month's marathon of trials and misteps and mistakes. 

The group of ladies I meet with on Tuesday mornings for Bible study are more precious to me than words.

My Thursday morning trips to the city to see Lizzie for knee injections are almost like going to church. I leave that office not just with medicine in my knee, but inspired and encouraged to steadfastness and hope.

Yesterday, between a knee injection and an appointment with the plastic surgeon, I met with my writing partner and friend Robbi for breakfast at Cracker Barrel. As we looked over the menus, a familiar hymn played through the restaurant's background music, and we both looked up and smiled. It's a gift from God just for us, Robbi said. 

Even the hours I've been alone in the car, driving here and there, have been a sanctuary. When Matt Redmon's Ten Thousand Reasons comes on the radio, I crank up the volume and sing my heart out to God, and I'm more than filled to overflowing with gratitude for all the ways God lays gifts at my feet and blesses my soul.  

After a week of hiding the incision across my cheek under a bandage, the plastic surgeon removed the stitches from my face yesterday. This was the second procedure I've had to remove a large cyst from my neck or face, and the surgeon worries both times that the meds I'm on for rheumatoid disease will prevent me from healing, but both times she announces her pleasant surprise that the incision is healing well. I praise God and tell the surgeon how good it is to have something go well. 

This morning I'm back in the city, only this time it's for my husband. He's had his own barrage of trials this month, and today he's having the first of two skin cancers removed from his face in a two hour procedure. 

I drive to Starbucks, order my favorite latte, and find a seat at a long table in Starbucks where I open up my laptop to work. Glancing across the top of my laptop, I recognize the mannerisms of the woman sitting across the table from me - so I ask, Are you a writer? Over the next hour, we introduce ourselves, exchange business cards, become facebook friends and share our writing projects, as well as our frustrations and battles with self-esteem as late bloomers in a writing world of beautiful, young, savvy and energetic women. 

But more importantly, we talk about the goodness of God. We see it in how we've providentially ended up across the table from each other - as I wait for my husband's procedure to be over and she for a friend having eye surgery. We both have stories of the evidence of God in our disappointments, His encouragement in our struggles and the abundant measure of His grace and mercy poured over and into our lives. 

James is right. No matter what, I can count it all joy, because God is always good. 

I {LOVE} Sunday::to be filled with joy and abound in hope...

May the God of hope fill you with all joy
and peace in believing,
so that by the power of the Holy Spirit
you may abound in hope.
Romans 15:13 ESV

Having "been in the battle"...

"The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest." Job 30:17

{repost from the fall of 2010 - because it's important to remember}

It's a rare Christian who does not walk through what feels like a "Job season" - when pain and suffering appears to press in on every side.

When my husband was staring down unemployment six years ago, after farming citrus for nearly twenty-five years, it was no coincidence that he was able to join Emily and I in our morning Bible study just as we began reading the Book of Job.

The tragedies Job endured were far worse than any we have ever experienced (and Lord willing, we never will), putting our own pitiful sufferings into perspective, but we related to him none-the-less - momentarily wondering what we did to deserve such a fate while being misunderstood and poorly comforted by those we thought were friends.

I've recently picked up Amy Carmichael's Rose from Brier, and while I'm too early in the reading to recommend it as yet, I've appreciated Amy's perspective. It is through her own lens of chronic pain and suffering that she offers hope and encouragement - comforting others with the comfort with which she has been comforted. A kind and loving word from any dear soul is a gift, but it is most treasured and encouraging from those who have walked the same path of suffering.

"For no man can tell what in that combat attends us but he that hath been in the battle himself" ~ John Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress

There's a tension in that for me. I don't like dwelling on past or current woundedness, pain or suffering, and I'm quite sure that others would quickly weary of hearing of them, as well...but if words of hope are to carry much weight, it's important to know that I've "been in the battle".

Physical pain is no stranger. I've been assaulted, in a car accident, broken my leg, had several surgeries - including emergency surgery for a perforated colon, and experience cycles of pain from crohn's disease flares.

For several weeks I've experienced some of the worst joint pains that I can remember - not just my knees, but my shoulders, hands and feet. Getting out of bed, in and out of the car, up and down stairs, dressing and undressing, sitting, standing, walking - there's very little that I am able to do at the moment without pain, and yet it has been a sweet and precious season of walking in the truth that "the joy of the Lord is my strength" - a powerful reality that I could only know in a season of weakness.

How has the Lord been with you in your battle that you might offer hope and comfort to others?  I'd really love to know.

{Photos} pumpkins on my 2011 kitchen counter