I can be a pretty serious person. I take things to close to heart and can become pretty defensive, pretty quickly. God brought a husband into my life that is crazy silly. And I’ve spent so many years not really appreciating that in him. I’ve spent too many years missing things because of this seriousness that leads to clenched hands trying to grasp control.
Last night I welcomed home my closest friend and her new little beauty from overseas. There is something about waiting for someone in an airport that you haven’t seen or talked to for weeks; added to the fact that you finally get to meet this little person that we’ve all been anxiously praying for for years and years. It was about as close to pure joy as you can get.
I’m reading Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe, by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson. It’s a super book so far, totally refreshing to read no matter what stage of parenting you are in, but it’s Sally Clarkson that reminds me that the seriousness in me is so smothering. It smothers the freedom and joy that I can have when I wake up every day anticipating life just as I kept looking through those glass doors last night for a glimpse of my friend.
Last night was a great reminder that despite what horribleness happens in the world (oh, how we are praying for Oklahoma) everyday is filled with anticipation. And we have a choice to take that anticipation with stoic seriousness or to open ourselves up to trust.
It’s a chance for us to shower our families, our callings, our anything with grace and joy. His grace and joy.