First, joy takes time. Joy is not fast food. It comes, I would say, as a by-product of living a savored life, of having time and taking time to “smell the flowers,” as we used to say. There is this old monastic insight about living a joy-filled life. Take time, take at least some time each day, to do one thing at-a-time.
Somewhere along this rocky, twisting, unwanted adventure of chronic illness comes a place of wrestling with God, with self, with letting go. But it’s OK. Because spring is almost here, hope watered in tears, ready to push through the grief, and burst into light.
Finally, my journey led me to joy. To taste joy in the midst of what previously drove me to survival mode came through seeking beauty in small moments. These moments are the gifts right before my eyes, but they are also the ones I can easily miss. And they lead to greater joy.
If we don’t blink at the intersection of the cross, where our suffering collides with Jesus’, we won’t miss the true joy!
