Pure Joy?

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, James 1:2


Disclaimer:  what I'm about to share with you, has taken me at least five years to feel and know, and six years to say out loud.  Please read it with an open mind and heart, and if you're feeling stuck yourself, I pray that these words will be a blessing to you and not a source of self-condemnation.  If that's you, if you're feeling stuck, please read with a gentle-to-yourself spirit.  We are all a work in progress, and I thank God He's not even close to done with me yet.  Amen?


Did you know that James, the author of the verse above, was Jesus' half brother?  That means that he witnessed, first hand, the torment and persecution his own brother went through.  And in the end, James loses Jesus to the crucifixion, a horrible, torturous death, to say the least.  I'd say, based on that alone, James knows what he's talking about.


I, for one, however, would not have agreed.  Trials equal joy?  Pure joy?  No thank you!  I choose door number two.  I'll keep my "lacking of pure joy" life, thank you very much.  I'm good riiiight here.


BUT today, I have to say, I do agree with James.


I felt like I was supposed to go through this process, writing this blog, last year at this time, but I couldn't do it.  I was too afraid.  Now I see that one of the sources of fear was exposing the shame, that I realized just a few days ago, that I carry in regards to Eadie Joy's life (thank you all for helping me process that).  I had thought what I carried, in regards to Eadie, was simply regret.  But it turns out, it was more toxic. 


The other source of fear though comes from the fear of sounding heartless, and even a little insane.  See today, I can see a new me.  Today, I can see a better me, regardless.


I miss my girls every day.  I wish their little lives would still be a part of ours, that our family would be getting to watch them grow and change, with us, but that just isn't an option.  I hate that A and G don't get the siblings they've longed for since the beginning of this whole mess, I hate that.  BUT!


I cannot speak for each member of my family, so I will only speak for me; I am changed, for the better, because of this.  I am changed for the better, regardless of the loss that I, as a mother, have endured.  I am better.  I'm a better mom:  I SEE my kids.  I adore them.  I do not worship them.  I know I am entrusted to them, by God.  They are a gift.  I once saw them as a task....


I am a better wife:  I (try to) LISTEN to my husband, to his words.  I take his feelings into account.  I allow him to lead us (I GET OUT OF THE WAY) because I hate the alternative, and when I feel he cannot, or will not, I shut my mouth and I pray; for him, for me (and my runnin' mouth), for our family unit...


I am a better human:  I've always had the gift of empathy; the ability to take my shoes off, and put on yours, but so many times I've chosen not to used that gift.  I use it now.  I choose to be Jesus with skin on as much as I am called, for HIM, because of what He's done for me, because of what He's done in me.


And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28


People!  He's talking about us!  Now, that's good news.