Joy

I remember texting my best friend, Rebecca, as I wrote your obituary. The text read something like, “Sis, I can’t do this.” At that moment, I just knew my life was over. The idea of even thinking past the moment was exhausting. Yet, here I am 407 days later full of joy and peace.

It’s been 407 since I last saw your face; 407 days since we prayed together; since you held my hand, made a joke and smiled so gently. There was a time, 407 days ago, that I was sure my world was completely over. Yet here I am, 407 days later, still as sure as ever of God’s sovereignty and amazing grace; sure of God’s restorative power.
 
People have always asked how/why I am so happy. I typically just smile and revert the convo. But in recent months, I’ve found the answer. You see, now that I know what it’s like to lose my joy, I can confidently proclaim that joy is a gift from God. The fact that I smile so often and bubble over with authentic joy on most days is not a coincidence, it is a gift from God.
 
Since you and Dad died, I’ve held my joy as a gift and offered it to those I’ve encountered. The idea that I serve a God who doesn’t only give me joy, but refreshes my joy morning after morning blows my mind.
 
Since you and Dad died, I met the God who gives, the God who takes away and the God who restores. Yet, I’ve also met the God of joy; the God of a joy that bubbles over; the God of a contagious joy that I just can’t keep to myself.
 
So on today, this 407th day, I am reminded of the joy that you left me and the joy that God continues to give. Lamentations 3:22-23.