Other

A funny thing happened to me the other day. Something I never dreamed would happen or even be required of me in my life...I had to check "The 'Other' Box" on a form. So what, right? I'm sure all of us have at many different points of our life checked "The 'Other' Box".  How did you hear about us? A friend? An Ad? Word of mouth? Other? Are you following me here? No big deal---but when I came upon my "Other", I just stopped and stared and asked myself if this was a practical joke of some kind. You see, I was asked, "Where do you live?" An Apartment? Condo? House? Assisted Living Facility? Other? So I giggled, suppressed the urge to scream, swallowed and checked "Other". Thank goodness they didn't ask me to explain.

On another note, life in our Other is becoming easier. We know our boundaries so we have stopped bumping into each other. We know that a closed curtain means that someone is about to lose it and needs a little "alone time". We know that when my jaw sets a certain way that everyone must scatter to pick up their things and the vacuum comes out. But also, we've learned to enjoy the State Park that is our neighborhood. Mitchell is often found at the lake perfecting his rock-skipping technique. Maddy has found that Arcadia offers landscapes that inspire the writer in her. The other day, I was sitting outside on a beautiful day and noticed how the sun was shining stunningly through the bright green oak leaves. I dashed inside and got my camera and spent the next 30 minutes snapping pictures in perfect light. And Jordan? Well, Jordan never really had to adjust to life in the RV. He is my mountain man. The man who builds fires. The man who grows a beard when the Air Force doesn't interfere. The man who fixes things. The man who doesn't squirm when facing the sewage hose. The man who cooks outdoors. He's in heaven. And now that his family has relaxed a little bit, he's in Nirvana. Who would have thought that Nirvana could be found in "The 'Other' Box"?

WWF

My friend laughed at me the other night at my self-acclaimed-profound statement that I have to “fight for Joy”. She laughed---almost guffawed at that idea. Normally, I delight, revel and thoroughly enjoy making my friends laugh. (I have been known to be a little less than dignified for the sake of hearing the golden sound of laughter) But her laughter prompted me to think hard on whether or not I was foolish in proclaiming my wrestle for lasting joy. So, in true woman fashion, I have been thinking, pondering and questioning my profundity. I have wrangled with the fact that she laughed at what was said in utter seriousness. Perhaps to her mind, if you have to struggle to find joy, it’s not joy at all. But the joy I am speaking of is not the Pollyanna kind of joy. It is not the shallow “joy” that looks at a difficult situation and plasters a fake smile on it and proceeds to ignore it. That isn’t even joy—it’s denial. I’m also not talking about happiness. Happiness is valuable but it often doesn’t last. It ebbs and flows with life’s ups and downs. When I speak of joy, I am speaking of a deep down, in the marrow contentment and confidence in the goodness of God. The kind of joy I am speaking of is the kind that looks pain in the face and sees it’s ugliness for what it is and yet chooses to turn to God to transform it. God---the giver of both goodness and calamity, sorrow and joy. God—who turns ashes to beauty and our mourning into dancing. This joy-wrestle looks into the face of bitter disappointment, deals with it, takes it on and struggles to turn it to God and say, “Yes, I’m disappointed, I’m sad, I’m angry but I’m choosing to believe your Word when it says that You will work this for my good.” (Romans 8:28) It is a fight. A hard fight. At times I feel as if I’m in the World Wrestling Federation and it’s me against a Tag Team of Defeaters. Just as I pin Self-Pity to the ground, his team mate Anger rises up and they’ve got me against the ropes. Let’s be honest here---there are times when I really would like to wrap myself up in self-pity. To put it on like a cloak and wallow in it, wear it and soak it in…because if I can feel sorry enough for myself, it justifies my anger at my circumstances and excuses my actions. So I have to fight---hard. To throw off that cloak of self and put on Christ who redeems me. Christ, who fought this bloody battle for me long ago on the cross and it is one who embraces Joy that chooses to believe that He did that for me and claim the victory that He won. (the Joy of my Salvation!)

It sounds easy but it’s not. It should be---and so maybe the wrestle isn’t so much for joy but against Unbelief. Do I believe that I am “more than a conqueror through Christ who loved us?” (Romans 8:37) Do I believe that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) including painfully dying to self in order to be more pleasing to God? After all, Paul states that believing this is the key to being content in all circumstances and contentment is directly related to joy. See? Even the thinking through of these things require mental wrestling…So perhaps my blog shouldn’t be “Choosing Joy” but “Choosing Belief” and my prayers shouldn’t be for joy in all circumstances but rather “help my unbelief” and give me faith at least as big as that pathetic mustard seed.

My friend was maybe right to laugh at my statement---Joy is mine already through Christ and the Cross but I must fight to believe in the victory that is mine against whatever foe I face in that wrestling ring. (Cue Carmen’s “The Champion” here for nice effect)