Joy

The first night little T came to stay with us, I did not sleep.  I lay in bed awake for hours, my mind spinning.  My heart was so heavy for her Mom, whom I had not yet met.  But I could only imagine her angst and emptiness.  I felt so burdened with it all, the complexity of the situation.  We were excited, but at the expense of someone else.  We were stepping into a situation rife with pain and brokenness.  I finally got up out of bed, and sat on my couch thumbing through my Bible, for what I did not know.  For calm, for direction, for something that would speak to this situation.  I prayed a few psalms of comfort over her Mom.  And then I stumbled on Colossians as though I had never read it before (had I ever REALLY read it?  Sigh.  I *know* these texts, but do I KNOW them?  Oh for the humility to seek the Lord earnestly, without pretense.)

I read this.

We have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.  May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.     Colossians 1:9-12

Oh my heart.  It spoke to this journey we were about to embark upon, and I thought, YES.  Fill me with knowledge of your will that I might walk in a manner worthy of the Lord.  Phew, isn't that the prayer?!!  Yes, Lord, Strengthen me with your power for endurance and patience with JOY.  I felt so encouraged, so empowered.

And here, months later, I find myself in a place without joy, already running low on endurance and patience.   I find myself in the trenches, in hard days and wakeful nights.  I find myself doing the hard work; tending to a needy, broken, sick child, up all night with my own three year old in her post-pacifier angst.  And I have bitterness, sadness, weariness.  But no joy.  The Lord has called us to this place, plucked us out of our comfort zone for this new complicated life, for ambivalence—I don’t know what I think, what I feel.  I feel trivial praying to the Lord for my basic needs (SLEEP, Lord, HAVE MERCY).  I feel like this is what we asked for, what He gave us, and we just have to walk it out.

The emotional toll of fostering is immensely more than I dreamed, and I find myself floundering throughout my day.  How can I have joy in a situation where the outcome is unknown, where my heart is dangerously on the line?  Where I see ugly parts of myself daily, and I respond in uglier ways?  I’m learning that I have the Holy Spirit to intercede on those days when I have nothing to offer on my own.  To show me a Bible verse on my phone while I wait in line at the pharmacy to pick up yet another prescription for little T.  To plant a worship song on my mind when I am driving to the ER.  To recruit prayer warriors on my behalf, who unknowingly reach out to me at the perfect times.  These are small things that I miss—but this is where the joy is hiding.  Joy in the fact that I get to see the depths of His grace and mercy, offering comfort when I need it most.  Joy as He meets me in the midst of my failings, even when I am not faithful to seek Him.  Joy in that we do not have to walk this out alone, and He is providing for our every step…even if we do not always feel it.

Lord keep my eyes above the waves, and let me have joy in the small moments of my day.  Help me rejoice in this chance to know you better, and strengthen me with endurance and patience with JOY as we humbly walk out this journey.