There are lots of things that bring me joy. The warm sun shining. Waking up to hear my older daughter singing to my younger daughter. Receiving a package in the mail. Spending hours in a fabric store, fondling the wares. Having uninterrupted time at my sewing machine. Rocking a newborn to sleep. And not having to put him down, because he isn't mine. Playing games with my kids. Cook out with friends. But these are all the easy ones. What about the times the diaper blows out in the middle of the grocery store, and you forgot the diaper bag. Or the entire gallon jug of red punch is suddenly flowing over the kitchen floor. How about the one hundredth time I'm having to tell the children to clean up their rooms. Or once again having to break up an argument over who's done more work. How about when the kitchen sink runneth over (I'll leave it to your imagination as to if that is just with dirty dishes, or actually running over. *ahem*). Are those times of joy as well?
Of course, my joy is made complete by my Heavenly Father. And at the end of the day, as I lay my head down to sleep, I let the events of the day wash over me. And in that still, quite moment, all things are counted joy. I am comforted knowing that one of the first and last things my Mom and Dad thought and prayed for were me, my family, my brother, and his family. I know that I have a husband who loves my completely, will never leave me, and is lifting us up to our Father. My children are loved, adored, innocent, and sweet. They love each other, and faithfully love me and their daddy. But most of all, I know, my steps are set in the heavens. I am unconditionally loved, and wanted by the Creator. He started this work in me. And through all the messes, tears, laughter, and heartache, He is finishing that work. That's what is joy to me.