I’m sitting beside Justin’s bed smelling vomit on my clothes and eating cold French fries for dinner. My back hurts from changing clothes, blankets, pull ups.
Even on IV nausea medication, Justin is still not able to keep anything down. But the steroids are making him so hungry, and I don’t have the heart to deny him food.
Over and over again, he leans his head into the basin, coughing and wretching. And I think, “Here we go again.”
So here I am in my barfy clothes and cold fries. Here I am, with my five-year-old son, walking through fire.
And this is what I think. If I cannot claim joy right here, right now, how can I claim that Jesus is the source of my joy?
I’m not talking about fleeting happiness. A day at the beach kind of thing. I’m talking about a real, steady, sustaining joy.
Somehow Jesus can and does continue to give joy even when you are face first in the mud.
“Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 9 for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” 1 Peter 1:8-9
grace steps 
I keep coming back to our conversation just a week before your trip to the hospital. After I prayed for our joy in the mundane every day, I recalled that night, how captivated I was with my God while in Chris’ hospital room. I know the unsensible joy that you speak of; relish it, allow it to sweep over you, drown yourself in it and give it away. Only when you give yourself up to Him totally will he catch you in his arms and sweep you away under the shadow of his wings. Imagine yourself in the trust fall when you have no reason to believe that you won’t be caught. That is where he wants to take you. And this is where he has the ability to affect your world through you.
Love to you all.
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