Rejoice

Rejoice.

I’ve been mulling over what I wanted to write for my first post on this new blog. So many possibilities. In the end, though, I kept coming back to this . . .

Rejoice.

I listen to the Bible on my Dwell app in the morning while I make breakfast (oatmeal and a boiled egg). I listen to the devotions, but I often start or finish with my very short “Start the Day” playlist, one I put together myself: 2 Corinthians 4:8–9, Philippians 4:4–8, and 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:4–8

Every single time I hear those familiar words, “Rejoice in the Lord always,” I smile. It reminds me that no matter the circumstances, the Lord is near.

Those verses have become etched in my mind, rising up when things get hard, when the world feels like too much. My shoulders drop, my breath slows, and I smile because God is in control.

My late 30s and most of my 40s had me feeling as though I were hanging from a cliff by my fingertips, white-knuckling each day. There were rampaging hormones and old childhood hurts. Instead of being open, my heart was mostly closed, protecting me from further hurt. Good times? Yes, of course. Many of them. But there was hard stuff too.

And then it happened . . . Driving my school bus home after the morning drop-off, I was flooded with an overwhelming sense of peace and joy, one that left no room for anything else. Just God. Just peace. Just joy. (I had to pull over. I was so thankful to be on an empty gravel road.)

It lasted less than a minute, but my only thought was, If this is what’s waiting, I can endure. Because surely that was no more than a hint of what’s to come.

Then came the tail end of my 40s. I was lying in an operating room, listening to the nurses chat about everyday things as they prepared for my cancer surgery, their chatter oddly consoling. As I lay there, I felt Jesus sitting beside me, waiting, keeping me company, assuring me that I was not alone. I felt, in a very real and concrete way, His love surrounding me and filling me with peace.

The God who was with me in the operating room, and on that gravel road, is also with me in the garden, in beauty, in noticing, in small details. When I see early spring bulbs poking up through muddy ground, or smell the heady scent of wild violets surrounding me as I weed the front garden on my hands and knees, He is there. Just as He is there when my finger hovers over the camera’s shutter button, seconds away from capturing a tiny floral detail.

That, in a nutshell, is my foundation.

Flowers, the garden, photography, painting, baking, adventures, and the rest? They all point back to that foundation.