By: Marianne Brown
I like to think that Joy is my thing. Some of us are good hope people, we’re able to pull people through the dangerous static of everyday ringing in their ears, into something crisp and clear and good. Some of us are good peace people or patience people and we will wait actively and expectantly for the good things to come. Some of us are good love people and we can uncover the good things hidden in others and highlight them, and grow them, and celebrate them. But some of us are joy people and joy people just are glad good things exist.
The problem with wanting to be a joy person, though, is that sometimes I manufacture happiness to keep my rep’. Today a sad thing happened at my house. It happens pretty often around here. The flowers that were sitting on our kitchen table had shriveled up, only a couple of buds in the middle still stood tall, the rest were wilted around each other. When this sad thing happens, I find a place outside to put the flowers where they’ll get crunched up and maybe help grow more good things someday (If that’s how that even works, I’m a joy person, but I’m not a gardener.)
I walked outside and bare-foot tip-toed around my back yard looking for a tucked away resting place for these flowers. As soon as I had scattered the last sad flower stem on the ground, I stood up straight and came face-to-face with these small, pink flowers, hanging together all around me.
I had no idea this was a flower tree! And I was at the time so wrapped up in finding a place to bury the happiness that I had taken from someone else’s yard, that I didn’t even see the giant bloom that was hanging above my head. Tucked away, pinned up against our wooden fence, just around the corner of the house enough to where you have to sweep your eyes around to find it, there they were. And now, even though these flowers won’t greet me as I walk into the kitchen, and they will fall away when everything cools down again outside, they still are more real than joy that comes from the store.
As we look for joy today, let’s consider that joy doesn’t need to be seen to be found.
1 Peter 1:8
Although you’ve never seen him, you love him. Even though you don’t see him now, you trust him and so rejoice with a glorious joy that is too much for words.
-Marianne Brown, Georgetown, TX