Undaunted Joy

Scriptures: Luke 2:41-52, Psalms 127:3-5, Proverbs 20:11, Luke 1:46-48

My mother-in-law told me that she can’t glance over at a partition in her kitchen without seeing my husband at three or four years old peeking over it at her. He is now nearly fifty years old. Wouldn’t Mary have stories and connections to Jesus in such a way as this? Do we think Jesus and Mary changed the world with resignation? Indifference? Did he not run and squeal as a child? Did she not run after him, scoop him up in her arms with a tickle and a kiss? Did she not marvel at how beautiful this child was becoming? . . . 

I think of this when I ponder what Catholics call the “Joyful Mysteries.” These are joyful moments in Mary’s life with Christ. There are five: the annunciation, the visitation with Elizabeth, Christ’s birth, his presentation in the temple, and Jesus’s parents finding him in the temple. It’s this last one that throws me for a loop. The holy family had been traveling for the Passover, and somehow, on their way home, twelve-year-old Jesus was lost. For three days, his parents looked for him. Can you imagine how frantic they must have been? My son walks into a dead zone with no cell coverage on the way home from school, and I freak out. When Joseph and Mary finally found Jesus, he was in the temple, “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.” 

Mary was wrought with emotion. “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.” . . . Jesus responds, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” Scripture says Jesus’s parents still didn’t understand what he was saying to them. But they returned home together as a family, and Jesus was “obedient to them.” . . . 

Here is why I think it is a Joyful Mystery. Mary realized she accomplished what she set out to do. She raised a son who could take care of himself, who asked good questions. He was a deep thinker and the type of young man others wanted to be around. Her son had found what he was meant to do. 

Mary knew her son well, and now there was joy in seeing others get to know him too. And the joy of seeing the beginning of his vocation unfold. 

Prayer 

Father, help me see the joy and beauty in Mary’s story. Give me opportunities to encourage the children and young people in my life so they grow up following you. Amen.

Scriptures: Romans 1:20, Psalms 19:1, Revelation 4:11

Surrendering myself to God’s love is how I am able to see the world through a lens of joy and love. I thought about this on a recent trip with my middle school–aged son. I have broken the cycle that my father continued from those before him and am a good and loving mother. It was bliss to show my son beautiful things and introduce him to new knowledge about his place in the world. My son lit up when he saw sheep on our walks in the countryside or a painting he had seen once in a book now before him in person, or had an interaction with a stranger that made him feel more a part of the world.

My son and I talked about how God enjoys giving us gifts, how God shows us beautiful things and introduces us to new ideas and knowledge to amuse us, to expand our view. Just like a good mommy, God, a good father, loves to delight us. When we allow God to love us, we can see those gifts he has set out to dazzle us. . . .

The following anonymous quote is often incorrectly attributed to Clare of Assisi, but I still think it’s a worthy sentiment: “We become what we love, and who we love shapes what we become.” Being loved by Christ shapes who I am and who I am becoming. I know that even if I just lie in bed all day, he will still love me. There are days when I have done just that, but today I will sit up, get out of bed, love my family. Even the silly little things on my to-do list become acts of love, of worship to the One who loves me.

Prayer

Lord, I surrender myself to your love, and I will endeavor to love others the way you love me. Amen.

Scriptures: Philippians 4:8, Romans 8:25, Proverbs 21:5

Never rush to peel an orange. If someone happens to be sitting near as you break the flesh with your thumbnail, invite them to inhale the initial spray of citrus as a gift. The scent calms as it cheers.

Slowly, languidly, attempt to peel the rind in one long singular strand. Bonus points if you can take that strand and re-form it into a hollow orange. If anything, it will make you smile.

Gently gather each string of pith from the outer edges of your orange. This requires patience, but patience tastes better than haste.

Tenderly pull each segment away from the cluster. Each one is an edible jewel. When you place it in your mouth, it will explode with equal parts sweet and tart.

Once, at the Asheville airport, a group of poets invited me to share in their bounty of clementines. Each bite reminded us of poems we had stored in our memory. We took turns reading these treasured poems aloud to each other. These poems served as benedictions before we parted ways, each to a flight for a different part of the country.

In high school, each year, my English teacher read a poem about first love, sacrifice, and oranges to his incoming class. He couldn’t read the poem without his voice cracking as he struggled not to cry during the last two lines. It became an annual joke to ask the freshmen if he cried reading “Oranges,” but now I too can’t read that poem without breaking, both for the beauty of the poem and the mark left by that sweet teacher who taught us how to see, even if the lens would take us years to look through.

Today I taught a little girl who is not my own how to peel an orange. She watched with curious and expectant eyes. She was not in a hurry for her snack. She knew I was showing her more than what she could see.

Prayer

Father, please open my eyes to the beauty in your world around me, in both the big things and the small things. Amen.

Scriptures: Jeremiah 29:5-7, John 16:33, Isaiah 26:3, Hebrews 11:1

Real faith isn’t present only when it is utilitarian, when it is convenient. True faith is part of you, how you live and move and have your being. 

True faith is when Job loses everything yet does not deny God. Job stood resolute in his faith even when his closest friends tried to sway him to curse God. . . . When you practice joy, joy is the default, even when the world falls apart. 

After the terrorist group Hamas butchered over 1,200 Jews in Israel on October 7, 2023, my friend, an Israeli, wandered the streets in grief. He was snapped out of his trance by the shouts of a man marching down Gaza Ave., waving an Israeli flag. The man marched past Netanyahu’s private apartment, his tzitzit flying in the wind, shouting above the traffic, “Simhah lehiyot besimhah” (Joy, be joyful.) True joy still thrives when you are bent, pressed, and straightened. This man’s act was one of defiance, and it reminded my friend to do the same. 

My Jewish friend tells me this is his faith at its best. “This is what we have been taught since the beginning of time.” During the Babylonian exile God told the Israelites to “build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile” (Jeremiah 29:5-7 NIV). 

With faith in God, we will not despair. Even in the darkest of places, we will create, build, plant, love, and hope. 

Prayer 

Lord, thank you for giving me a hope that endures even during the darkest times. Please help me share that hope with others. Amen.

Scriptures: Acts 17:27, Psalms 23:5, Psalms 46:10

There is something about being able to participate in the ritual of morning coffee, whatever that is for you. Whether it is making coffee just for yourself or for a loved one too. In my home, only my husband knows the perfect coffee-sugar-milk ratio I take. Even I do not know. Some days I think that ratio might be the secret to the entire universe. 

It might be the most present we are in the entire day as we inhale the scent of the cup, close our eyes, and take a sip, establishing the true beginning of the day. Nothing tastes as good as that first sip. Not the second sip. Not the first sip from your third cup. It is that first sip. It fortifies us. . . . 

I know some people don’t drink coffee. I myself drink tea when I go to the UK. (When in Rome!) But we aren’t talking about them. We are talking about the nearly 80 percent of Americans who drink coffee. You see, it is one of the things most of us have in common. We might differ on politics or religion or whether we eat carbs, but do you need a cup o’ joe to function in the morning? So do I! Through coffee, we see our shared humanity. ,I too, am a walking sack of bones and flesh until I have a morning jolt of caffeine to jump-start my heart and brain. 

But truly, honestly, there are days when my coffee feels like grace. My heart is already racing with the day before me. And I want to sob, I am so overwhelmed. I warm my hands on the mug, close my eyes, and breathe. Just breathe. In that space between my own breath and the steam from the cup, I know God is there. “He is not far from any one of us” (Acts 17:27 NIV). In that moment, I am aware of the Holy Spirit within me and the presence of grace. 

My cup and portion. My cup overflows. Cup of mercy. Goodness. 

That cup of coffee is a prayer. A moment when we ask for what we have not words for. The moment of “Be still, and know I am God.” And in that breath, in acknowledging Your presence, You show us You will make a way where we see none. 

Prayer 

Lord, thank you for reminding me of your constant presence and for always working in my life. Amen.