We Need to Remember Joy is a Random Thing

What brought you joy last week?

It's easy sometimes to get so caught up in the things we struggle with that we fail to give proper credit to the things that bring us happiness, however fleeting.

I spent a good part of my weekend blog hopping, to the extent that it seems some bloggers spend all their time writing about blog hopping. It was a perhaps necessary exercise to see how other people write and try to expand readership (following those I found I liked and getting some new followers myself) but out of all my blog hopping, Monday morning I found inspiration. Anna Elizabeth, who had commented on several of my blogs, also blogs at The Five Facets and her blog, which show up on Google+ feed (yes I know, who cares) was about random things that brought her joy last week.

I decided it wouldn't be bad to take a moment or two to think about the things that brought me joy last week -- heck, that would probably be a good habit to get into. SO I did, even if it's not Thankful Thursday. I'll call it Thinkback Tuesday.

1. Sledding with the girls. Sure, the snow sucked and there was only a couple of inches of really slick stuff that DOT never really addressed, but for two little girls who can't remember a significant snowfall, it was enough. A small hill, a good sled and snow bibs and we were able to enjoy time outside.

2. A doughnut with E1. Watching her eat her chocolate-covered, creme-filled concoction while her busy little eyes were focused on the fresh doughnuts rolling off the conveyor belt was priceless. Indeed, the whole morning's outing was an unexpected joy.

3. Deer hams from a virtual stranger. Three phone calls on Saturday had me meeting Josh at the interstate where he had two hams in a tub from the extended bow season in Elkin, NC. He'd hunted all season and while he still enjoyed hunting, his need for meat had slipped. One was cut up and went into the freezer and the second into the crockpot for this week's protein addition.

4. Watching the sourdough sponge rise. Unless you've done it, don't laugh. You can actually see the dough breathing. About 10-12 hours into its expansion, the bubbles rise and burst causing the dough to move and wiggle. The fact that each batch brings me closer to perfection (or what I want it to be) and that I've been using the bread for sandwiches, etc., only adds to my fascination with step two of the process.

5. Singing in church. Sunday morning, after struggling with worship songs for weeks and finding my peace with "Keep Making Me," I was able to sing with the congregation without feeling like I had to hold back. It was the "Revelation Song" and it didn't matter that the big screens weren't working because I knew it from my heart and sang it out with joy.

6. Walking with Rebel, Macy and my husband Saturday afternoon. The first day of February turned out fairly nice and my big yard dogs haven't seen me nearly as much as they would like this winter. They were practically doubling up in enthusiastic tail wags, walking on my heels and, in Macy's case, bouncing off of me in their excitement. Hubby hadn't walked as much as he would have liked last week either, so he joined us and we all took a brisk stroll down the road and back.

7. Zumba. Well, Zumba almost always makes me smile and even more so as I'm feeling ties to my classmates that I never had before. After the aggravation of missing another night class on Tuesday thanks to the aforementioned snow, I was at Move2Melt just a little late Saturday morning and, other than realizing I still had gum in my mouth and having to run spit it out, didn't miss a beat of music, although I won't say I was always with it. Dancing makes me happy. My classmates make me smile.

8. A Super Bowl commercial that made me laugh out loud. It was for Chevy, the first one with the bull and romance in the air and "You Sexy Thing" for a soundtrack. I grew up around cows and it was just hilarious to me. Pretty soon after that the game was so bad that I didn't even watch, but that one made me laugh.

9. A diaper blowout. Yes, those are generally bad things, but this one was beyond the realm of bad. It was just hilarious because E3 had not only covered herself, but somehow managed to shoot poop out of the top of her diaper and leave a trail across the playroom. Much cleanup, a stinky baby and all, it was just too funny to not laugh.

10. Two little girls yelling "Ma!" and wrapping tiny arms around my legs when we rode over to watch the Super Bowl at their house. That will always bring me joy, although I know the voices and range of reach will change. When they are so excited that I'm at their house, despite all the time we've spent together in the week, it's especially priceless.

There, 10 things to be thankful for last week and a reason to take the time to note the things that bring me joy this week as well. Perhaps a challenge to each of you to do the same and share? Maybe, little by little, we can realize our lives are better than we take the time to recognize in the moment.

My Faith is Strong, But I'm Struggling With Worship

I realized Sunday, in the midst of what turned out to be one of the best weekends in ages, that one of the hardest places for me to be lately is church.

It's not so much that I'm mad at God, although I am and He's letting me work through that, but that to worship freely I need to let down the barriers that help hold me together the other six days of the week.

Don't get me wrong, I've not dodged church as a result. In fact, my church family -- especially my Sunday school "siblings" and a few close church friends -- have been people I can turn to when I have an earthly need. Although I struggled with going to church that first Sunday afterwards knowing that the sincere hugs and condolences would be hard, I've gone every week.

Sunday school class goes fine. I probably don't share as much of what I'm going through on a day to day basis as I once did -- if anyone is familiar with the pain of loving Ethan, it's them -- but I can still contribute to the lesson. Being with a group that supported me for so long is good, even if we don't talk about it.

It's the worship, the music and song that gets me. Sometimes it's the sermon as well, where I just can't wrap my mind around how all this earthly pain ever stacks up to anything good.

When it comes to the music, it's probably the same root cause that has me switching from listening to KLOVE on my radio in the car, to playing CDs. At first I blamed it on the few commercials (especially those for Teen Challenge, an addiction treatment program that Ethan refused to attend), but I've realized it's because I cannot control what they are playing or even skip a song that strikes too many chords in my heart.

At the same time, I'm finding it easier to deal with in the car because it doesn't matter if I cry as long as I can still see the road. I've come to terms with the lyrics of a lot of songs that cause me pain and reached the point that I can generally sing along even if I simultaneously cry. If I find I cannot handle it, I can push the skip button or stop singing, which allows some of my defenses to come back up.

In fact, the first week that I started getting out, I spent most of my time in the car crying, no matter what my destination. While I was eager to get out, I found those alone times with Christian music, which frankly is all I've listened to in years other than my old stuff, were tough. Even if I had the girls in the back, I would cry between point A and point B, then put myself together enough to go on.

I've found that same problem carries over into the worship part of church service. I'm not sure if that means that playing the music in the car is a worship, which at times it does feel like, or not, but it does leave me struggling to get through the start of our church service Sunday mornings.

I cannot hit the skip button if the song the choir or congregation is singing causes me pain. I cannot change the station. I cannot turn it off.

When the pastor encourages us to celebrate our Lord in our worship, I stand there with my jaw locked trying not to cry, or perhaps losing the battle and just hoping I don't break down completely. Depending on the structure of the service, it may be all I can do to get through to the end having exhausted my emotional reserves early in the process. Although I do listen to the sermon, sometimes the lesson has a hard time taking root.

Because to be quite honest right now, I'm struggling with my relationship with God. It's hard to be close to someone you're angry at and I don't understand why any of this had to happen. Reminding myself that I'm not supposed to and that the world is an evil place where bad things happen only gets me so far.

Through some terrible paradox, while I'm angry at God, I have to depend utterly on my faith in Him to be able to make it on a day to day basis. I have to have faith that there is a reason for pain -- mine and Ethan's and all the other pain that I've become much more intimate with in the last five weeks -- or else I would sink into utter despair.

That this life is just a short part of our existence and the things that happen here are passing is hard to accept when mortality is all I know. Even accepting that, the need for pain and suffering and what impact it can have on our souls still baffles me. The Biblical lessons about how we endure trials here converting to treasures in heaven just don't satisfy my need to understand what's happening now.

I don't think church can help me deal with these things so I guess church may just be tough for a while.

I know these are issues God and I have to work out on our own in long, mostly one-sided conversations with me doing the talking. My answers some in brief flashes of insight, visions that might be dismissed as daydreams, the words of people I don't really know that without this pain I would never have touched, the ability to make someone else feel less alone during the hardest times of our lives.

My answers come in faith and hope in things I have not seen and won't see at church, but that I nonetheless believe in and which keep me going seven days a week.

TIme Change in the Nursery

Two points to make up front: One, if you've never volunteered in the church nursery, you really should, especially if you have small children in your life who spend time there; and two, don't make the Sunday of time change your first time.

If you do, it could well be your last.

The Sunday that time changes is always tough on everyone. Our bodies aren't adjusted to the new schedule and it may take several days for that to happen. We're up at the wrong time, eating at the wrong time, going to bed too late or too early. It just generally makes us out of sorts and potentially cranky for a while.

If you have small children, you may get to take advantage of an extra hour of sleep or find that mealtimes have to be adjusted for a while.

But how about a schedule that doesn't really give? How about when you take them to church?

Oh! My! Gosh!

At it's best, nursery with the babies and toddlers probably doesn't fit the vision a non-nursery person would have. It's not sitting around in a rocking chair comforting a crying child until they go to sleep. It's not reading a Bible story and then discussing it and coloring. It's controlled chaos with a group of tiny tyrants, many of whom may be unaccustomed to sharing, staying with strangers, or sitting in small chairs to eat.

Most Sundays at least one of the little people will have a meltdown over mommy leaving, sharing a toy or falling. So whatever else you do you may wind up doing with 20 pounds on your hip. Those other duties include managing juice and snacks and a host of assorted sippy cups, remembering who drinks water and not juice and who is gluten free, keeping pacifiers with their rightful owners, and sometimes changing a diaper or taking an older child potty. In addition, you have to manage the little ones and their relationships with each other and the toys and furniture in the nursery. No pushing, pulling or grabbing from one another; no standing on the chairs or sitting in the infant swing; don't color on the furniture or walls or feed the little ones the crayons (wait! who got crayons out with this bunch) and wondering if we really need every toy, block and book in the floor just to get through an hour (or slightly more) of worship.

Yes, that's just the negatives of nursery and enough to scare the faint-hearted. The other side of the coin is getting to know all the wonderful little people in the church and their parents. It's watching a tearful toddler learn to play with other children. It's hearing a little person just beginning to talk and express themselves. It's a lot of early steps and developmental changes, more noticeable because you don't see them every week. It's an occasional hug from one of God's miracles and a heartfelt thanks from a parent who was able to enjoy worship because you had their rambunctious child. It's giving back instead of only taking.

On good days, it's a wonderful experience that makes you fantasize about more organized activities, songs and games, etc. Then the reality of children from a few months to a few years sets in and you realize they're never going to be on the same page and you may as well enjoy them where they are instead of trying to get them where you want them to be.

But on the Sunday of time change, when you're dealing with even a few children who don't understand why everything is happening an hour late, nursery is not the place to be handling your own schedule miscues.

It started out simply enough with just one toddler and myself as my daughter, who talked me into the gig because the three Es were nursery bound, was running late (see earlier blog about never getting anywhere on time). But this toddler, who is normally a sunny, easy to get along with child, insisted that the television be on. Not that she wanted to sit down and watch it, she just wanted a movie going and not any movie would do. I finally had her happy just before the other children started arriving. That was probably the high point of the morning.

At its busiest I think there were four adults (two stayed with their little ones) and only seven children but even then we were badly outnumbered.

Snacks were dumped out and then eaten off the floor. Pacifiers wound up in the wrong mouths. One older toddler kept trying to give a younger one her sippy cup with a straw, which was headed for her eye or nose most of the time. That same little toddler thought another cup was hers because she has one like that at home. One little one insisted on emptying the toy boxes and another pulled all the books from the shelf. Crayons appeared from the closet and there were brawls over coloring books, marks on the table, and a constant battle to keep the crayons away from the under 2 group. Shoes and hairbows were lost and found. One climbed into a walker, then fell out on a dollhouse.

No one was really tearfully unhappy (unless you count me and I restrained myself), but I'm not sure it was their most positive nursery experience either. And of course, it was nearly noon before I realized why everyone was off. In their little minds they were supposed to be home having lunch and naps. Why were they at church? What had gone wrong with the world?

I think although I realize I'll be adjusting for a few days, I hadn't thought about the fact that the time change also affects little ones who can't even tell time. I mean in ways beyond what time they go to sleep and what time they wake up. There are all the little parts of their day that slip out of synchronization when we change the time. It's totally not their fault or something they can understand. No wonder they were out of sorts.

So nursery was a little rough Sunday, but I'm not handing in my resignation. Instead I went home and took a nap. Something I almost never do. After some sleeping on the sofa with my four-legged foot warmers, the day didn't look quite so bad.

I'm going to try to remember that the three little ones hanging out at my house are going to be a little off this week as well. If that means I need an extra dose of patience, or another nap on the couch, well, we'll just have to work that out as the time comes.