I sit in the quiet hours of Henrik’s nap. I should be canning tomatoes and getting the diapers out on the clothesline, but for now I let the stillness have sway. Yesterday we celebrated Sophia’s birthday with a four-course meal on our best plates for her and ten of her dear friends. There was an embroidery lesson, there was sparkle slime made, there were huge bubbles blown on a homemade wand. There was the that daughter at day’s end thanking me for my hard work to make her birthday so special.
I melted into my bed last night, and my husband massaged my aching feet, and we talked in that easy-exhausted-contented way that we do after a big day.
Joy. That is the word my thoughts keep circling back to. How much joy is in this life we’ve been given.
A naked baby in an old enamel pot having a bath in a stained laundry room sink kind of joy. It’s astounding, really. We’re broke and I just crazy-glued my wedding ring back together because we can’t afford to get it repaired, but we’re madly happy. God wraps joy in and through all our mess and holds us together.
Yes, I am astounded. Astounded by His mercy…by all this joy in the midst of day-to-day hardships. Yes, our world is mad; outright brimming with suffering and violence and death. How can I believe in God? Because the world is beautiful too; outright brimming with joy and kindness and children and smiles and tastes and flowers and redemption. How can I not?