It is hot. Again. It feels like it’s been hot for ten years straight without a drop of rainfall here in Windhoek. I’m so desperately craving wet, dewy days and gray skies and big puffy pregnant clouds.
At the dawn of 2020, with the all the “new year, new me” frenzy, I decided that I would praise the Lord in the good. And in the bad.
But that’s not all. There are just so many little things weighing on my heart. Areas where I feel like I’m failing . . . Like I’ve been failing for a very, very long time but for so many reasons, I couldn’t bring myself to accept the obvious tell-tales. That’s a story for another day . . .
I’m not talking about the mundane things like what my OCD self considers a dirty house at present, and/or piles of laundry. Or the fact that “training my children in the way they should go” all on my own is just oh-so exhausting. Or juggling mommying with breaking my back to make my businesses take flight, oft times wondering where the next meal will come from.
These are just the tip of the iceberg . . .
Speaking of, have you listened to our podcast lately? Well, if you’d like to hear us carelessly pour our hearts out, then don’t miss a new episode every Sunday afternoon.
P/S: You can now order these pretty Tees via firstname.lastname@example.org to remind you that even on those hard days, you can choose joy over pain.
Many of these things aren’t big in the grand scheme of life. But they matter to me. And as I find myself in this place of just being ill and frustrated and bleh at the present moment, I know that I have to find joy. I have to choose to find joy. Because my babies are watching.
At the dawn of 2020, with the all the “new year, new me” frenzy, I decided that I would praise the Lord in the good. And in the bad. As I read in Habakkuk today, I came across this beautiful reminder that he made the same choice long ago:
“Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord!” Habakkuk 3:17-18 NLT
Wow. His list is tough. Really tough! Way more serious than my hot, scorching, sweaty days, two little girls battling so many of life’s aspects, hungry tummies, unpaid bills, a dirty house and businesses to effectively and successfully run. And still, in the midst of a situation that could be a matter of life and death, as Habbakuk’s list came to an end, he said, “yet, I will rejoice in the Lord!”
Such power in three little letters. It means “but at the same time,” “nevertheless,” “in spite of that,” or “come what may.”
There are people struggling around us every day, especially in these trying times. Every day – with scary, unfathomable mis-happenstances (I hope that’s a word). And if they know that I know Jesus, surely I have to live out “sharing the reason for the hope that I have.” Right? I have to truly find my joy in God and model that “yet” in my own life.
For them too . . .
Not to show off that I’m ‘more’ joyful than they are but to give them that “yet-kind-of-hope” Habbakuk speaks of. To encourage them that come rain or shine, today matters and we have to choose to be present in this moment, with joyful hope.
I have to show them that because of God, the hard things are not the end. And we can all find joy in the middle of the yucky days. So, here are three ways to focus on creating your own “yet” when those tough times come: