honesty hour: joy

'Joy' by Hannah Poschel, 2015, 12x12, Melted Crayon on Canvas

'Joy' by Hannah Poschel, 2015, 12x12, Melted Crayon on Canvas

Honestly, I've been struggling to find a little "Christmas cheer".

I never expected to have to make space for Him like this, through this. I persist to push away the thoughts that smother my palette--all of the scents, the sounds, the pinch in my throat and in my heart, the reminders. 

Sometimes I'm convinced that I'm living in the middle of someone else's novel. I so desperately want to close the book, but I'm not the one writing it, and I'm not the one reading it. At some point, I know this chapter will close and be ready for everyone else to read, but for now--all I can say is that I am inhaling, and that I am exhaling.

And Joy is a presence so sweet and strange. I thought I knew, before now, about Joy.

Joy sits close to the numb nerves and tells them that it will be okay. Joy is healing through quiet persistence. Time. Presence. Stillness. If I give in to Joy, then I know that His warmth will eventually break through and thoroughly captivate me in the most beautiful way.

Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.
— Advent Hymn, Charles Wesly

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