Day 240, September 7

Joy abounds, yet sometimes my heart does not feel it.  When my heart is closed, it fails to recognize joys that would be immediately apparent on another day.

I liken it to a window or door closed against the world.  I have been known to do this, to close the blinds and take refuge inside, not letting in the sunshine or even a visitor who might knock on the door.  Do you ever do that, closing yourself in, perhaps in an effort to protect yourself or perhaps in an effort to protect others from your bleak mood?

It is counter-intuitive, but an instinctive reaction, at least to some of us.  On the other hand, when my heart is open, I tend to open the blinds, to leave the door unlocked, to reach out to others.

Joy for today:  opening my windows ... and my heart.

Day 239, September 6

I love this time of year.  I love the green-apple snap to the air.  I love the breeze that cools my face when I walk.  I love the changing colors.

"It should stay this way all year round," I said to my husband on an early morning walk.

He only smiled at me, knowing, as I did, that I didn't really want that.  I only thought I wanted it at that moment.

Isn't that the way with many things?  We think we want something.  We sometimes pray for that thing quite fervently.  Then we realize that if we were to be granted that, we probably wouldn't want it after all.

Of course, I like this beautiful weather.  And, of course, I think I want it to stay for the entire year.  But without the other seasons, the brilliance and beauty of fall would pale.  So I am trying to appreciate the blessing of it for the present.

Joy for today: reveling in today.

Day 238, September 5

Last week, I attended a baby shower held at the home of a good friend.  This friend is always elegantly dressed, always graciously welcoming.  Her home was beautifully decorated, tastefully appointed, and meticulously kept.  I had a vague feeling of dissatisfaction with myself, with my house, with my life.

Why, I asked myself, can't I be as elegant and gracious as my friend?  Why can't my home be as exquisite as hers?

And then I remembered my blog about porcupines.  I'm a porcupine.  I'm not elegant and gracious as is my friend.  Nor is my home beautifully decorated, tastefully appointed, and meticulously kept.  It is casually decorated, casually appointed, and, I'm afraid, casually kept.  In other words, it reflects Larry and me.

Joy for today:  being a porcupine.

Day 237, September 4

Have you had a day where, despite your best goal-setting  and plans, you got distracted?   Afterward, we feel bad about ourselves that we didn't accomplish our goals.  And that's okay.

But there can be times when something more important comes up, interrupting the best laid plans, the most noble goals.  One Friday morning, I had my day laid out, the time meticulously divided up between activities. Then my eighty-something year old friend called in distress, afraid she was having a stroke.  I dropped everything, jumped in the car (still in my exercise clothes), and drove to her place.  We determined that she should go to the hospital.  The next six hours or so were spent with Dorothy at the hospital, where we learned that she had a UTI.

My goals didn't get met; my plans were interrupted.  And that was all right.  It was far more important that I spend the time helping my friend.

Joy for today:  interrupted plans.

Day 236, September 3

Last Sunday at church, the teacher spoke about "good, better, best."  You know the motto:  don't let the "good" get in the way of the "best."

I have been guilty of that many times.  I justify myself by saying, "Well, this is a good thing.  I should be doing it."  But it was not the best use of my time, talents, or energy.  Then I wonder how much time, talents, and energy I have squandered on things that don't even classify as good: the television shows that are questionable at best, the books that were only so-so, the activities that served no useful purpose.

What will the Father say to me when I pass from this life to the next?  Could it be, "Well, Jane, you did some good things.  Too bad that you didn't do more things that are best."

That is not acceptable.

Joy for today:  spending more time, talent, and energy on the best rather than the good.

Day 235, September 2

My blogs have been rather heavy lately.  I guess that is normal as my heart has been heavy as well.  But there is still room for smiles and even for laughter.

Following are a few things which have made me smile or laugh over the last weeks:

Discovering that I had put my shirt on inside out--again--and worn it that way while I went visiting teaching.
Seeing the antics of two cotton tail bunnies on my morning walk.
Enjoying a holiday barbeque with my family.
Finding a new book at a garage sale.
Taking chocolates to a friend.

Joy for today: remembering that I can still smile and laugh.

Day 234. September 1

The year is two-thirds over.  During the last months, I have been tested in ways I never wanted to be.  My heart aches, and it probably always will, as I contemplate going on without my precious sister.  The only thing that keeps me going at times is that someday I can be reunited with her.

Isn't the Father's plan wonderful?  That we can see those who have gone before again?  I rejoice in that, even when the tears come, as they so often do these days.  So, even though it's been difficult to find joy in these last weeks, I can still rejoice.  That is a miracle in itself.

Christ's sacrifice makes my grief bearable.  He lives.  And we will, too.

I have often quoted from one of my favorite hymns "I Know That My Redeemer Lives.".  One passage that resonates within my heart is "Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives:  I know that my Redeemer lives."

Joy for today:  knowing that my Redeemer lives.