Finding Joy in the Little Things on Hard Days
As little Ezekiel grows so quickly, I’m ever-conscious of the need to remember the little moments and slow down. Yesterday late afternoon I sat down, after a hard day, and made a list of what I want to remember most about this season.
I remember the sound of his hands tapping the window ‘mummy a beeeeetle!’. I remember waking up at 6 to his big hugs and the sound of running in the hallway. I remember long walks and going to the ocean and watching him run carefree. I remember the sacrifice of staying at home so he recevies the education God has called us to give him. I remember the exhaustion I felt, and I remember his joy. I remember the weariness and loneliness some days, and I remember watching him play with his friends, throwing his hands in the air and laughing. I remember the sacrifices, but I remember the promises of his future. I remember shedding ‘myself’, giving up my desires of sleeping in, giving up a business I ran for 8+ years, letting go as friends and family move away, but I remember the joy of giving our family my best.
I attempt to squeeze moments of delight but some days it IS hard to find little things to find joy in; when I haven’t slept well or ate well enough, the exhaustion settles in a bit too hard, and I wonder how on earth can I share here, encouraging women, when I am struggling too?
I’m on the hunt to re-learning delight, on finding joy in the things which God has given me.
We all have hard days, but we can still delight.
A couple weeks ago, I was having a difficult day. Ezekiel rose early and I hadn’t slept well; I had a bunch of tasks waiting for me to complete and I felt like a mess. I was tired and weary from the night before. After crying that morning with pleas before God, I decided a walk and some fresh air was what Ezekiel and I needed most. The last thing I wanted to do was to hold a conversation with a neighbour yet God knew it was what I needed most.
I stepped outside and within a couple minutes of walking down the road, I was waved down by a kindhearted 90 year old neighbour who was putting her bins out. She crossed the road to say hello. Genie, who grew up in World War II and had five children including two (!) sets of twins, shared she had just been helping her 90+ year old husband putting on stockings for his swollen leg, and had bruised her hand in the process. ‘That’s life, isn’t it.’ Genie said at the end.
And I thought, here we are – exchanging exhausted struggles of life. We are not meant to live ‘perfectly’. We are not meant to create ‘picturesque’ havens or homes where nothing terrible ever happens – we need to be prepared to fight against the evil one, to overcome and to share our struggles with those around us. Whenever I don’t do any of those, the ‘pit’ I’m living in feels like it gets bigger. I’m not for sharing sob stories. I am for real, sticky, honest conversations – ones that drip of honey and dirt, sharing in the brokenness and beauty of life.
Heaven is our home and we are reaching for it. I find my soul stretching to reach it and create glimpses and glimmers of the kind of joy we’ll get in heaven, yet I know there will never be that same resounding fullness of joy here. Sometimes joy is in surrender, in laying down my life for those around us and giving wholeheartedly and generously. Cookies for a weary neighbour, shared sorrows with a friend and prayers, laughter with someone you love.
Sometimes our undoing is the beginning of being broken into something beautiful; the pains of birth before we hold our baby, the seed breaking through the soil, the flower opening to bloom, the impending sense of growth that rises and fills the air after days of rain.
Is not life this sort of emptying and filling – puckering up for summer heat and wild berries and swims at dusk and then winter slams and falls. Somehow we often forget the ripeness, the goodness of life unfolding before us.
All of life – hard and beautiful and broken yet good. Teach me to remember these days, the soft flutters of footsteps and shadows on our living room wall; weeds pulled, meals made, naps had, dinner ready. Teach me to soak and not to withhold. Teach me to delight.
Recipe for finding joy in the little things on hard days
Re-learn delight – even as you cook, garden and clean
Step outside and strike a conversation with a neighbour
Remember the little moments; note them in your journal
Make a fresh smoothie or something tasty to eat
Bake cookies for a friend or someone in need
Read Psalm 1
Get out of your head and dance to a favourite song
Pray pray pray 🙂
Remember the hard days… they are refining you! If you trust God and allow Him to move.
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