Fight for Joy

Fight for Joy

I woke yesterday morning to a fresh, white world, snow sparkling like diamonds. Not the kind of beauty I really wanted to see in the second week of April, but still something to appreciate.

And then came the text: Feel like a road trip? Coming from anyone else, I would have wondered what adventure awaited. Coming from my oldest son’s wife, my heart sank. My son, who has a chronic liver disease, is in the hospital—again. And my poor daughter-in-law is down with the flu and can’t be with him.

I’m on the road in forty-five minutes, heading south through heavy snow with a heavy heart. I pray. I cry. And gradually things begin to change—inside and out.

As I drive south, I watch the temperature climb from 32 to 36. Snow turns to rain. Feeling prayed-up (or prayed-out), I turn on the radio. Politics don’t hold my attention long. Not in the mood for country—although I smile at the words to 19-Something—especially the line that says “I’ve seen the stuff they put inside Stretch Armstrong.” I remember the day two of my boys pulled him apart. In case you’re wondering, the goop inside is greenish-blue.

Another hundred miles and the temperature climbs into the forties. Amazing what green grass can do to fill a person with hope after a too-long winter . . . and difficult news. Determined to redirect my thoughts to praise and to fight for joy, I turn on K-LOVE. The first song that comes on is Diamonds by Hawk Nelson. It begins with a line about being “in the fire.” As I think ahead to sitting in a hospital room, the words resonate. I strain to hear the lines of hope. Words that speak of finding treasure in the ashes: “When the pressure is on, the joy of the Lord will be my strength.” And then comes the verse that takes my breath. The one that speaks of being crushed by love. Crushed. Not by the wFullSizeRender (4)eight of circumstances, but by His love. The image hurts, but frees at the same time. I am loved. My son is loved. Crushed by love. How can that knowledge produce anything but joy? And hope.

By the time I reach my destination, the thermometer has risen by twenty-three degrees. Trees boast new green leaves. And flowers. Pink. Lavender. White. I embrace the color, say another prayer, and walk into the hospital. I don’t know what lies ahead. But this I know . . . when the pressure is on, the joy of the Lord will be my strength. I will fight for joy.

Becky Melby About Becky Melby

Wisconsin resident Becky Melby is the author of the Lost Sanctuary Series and a dozen other contemporary fiction titles. Married for 43 years, mother of four, grandmother to fifteen, Becky thrives on writing, reading, camping, rides on the back of a silver Gold Wing, and time with family. Connect with her at her website or Facebook.

Comments

  1. Jan Glas says:

    Amen! God is God all the time.

    Praying with you.

    [Reply]

  2. Jan Glas says:

    I typed – or thought I did – God is good all the time. God is God all the time is probably as true or truer.

    Love you.

    [Reply]

    Becky Melby

    Becky Melby Reply:

    I wondered if you meant “good,” but who could argue with God is God! Love you too!

    [Reply]

  3. I loved this!

    [Reply]

    Becky Melby

    Becky Melby Reply:

    Thank you, Joi.

    [Reply]

  4. Beautiful, Becky. This made me cry. Just beautiful. Crushed by God. Yes. I’ll take it. xo

    [Reply]

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