I Choose Joy -- Day 17 of Advent

I don't always choose joy. Instead of sleeping last night, I was worrying about what I was going to write today. I kept considering titles and tossing them aside. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed that I had attended a Christmas party but forgot to bring a gift for the gift exchange. It was a restless night. If I had been one of the shepherds hearing the good news at night, I probably would have been worried about moving the sheep in the dark. I'm a morning person; I can see "joy comes in the morning," but "I bring you good news of great joy" in the middle of the night -- not usually.

I'm better at choosing joy than I used to be. That may not be saying much since I still fail so many times each day; nonetheless, I am making progress. If you have been reading this blog (thank you, Mom) and know that I have been trying to post everyday, you noticed I missed on Sunday and doubled up yesterday. It was tempting to look at how I failed. But I also had the option of choosing joy: I wrote 14 days in a row! That is a first for me. On Monday, I managed to eek out another post, and here I am again.

Already this week, I have had multiple times of choosing between joy and not-joy. The picture below is my Christmas tree. If you think this tree looks like it is planted outside, you are correct.

This tree has to come out of the ground because it is growing too close to the birch trees and too close to wires. Therefore, it might as well be our Christmas tree. However, those of us who celebrate Christmas on December 25 have only 8 days left to get presents under the tree. My tree is still outside. (I've tried to talk my family into January 7, to no avail.) Do I want to choose joy or not-joy?

To not choose joy is counter-productive. When I don't choose joy, my mind seems to be paralyzed by whatever it is that I'm upset about: a lost note, long lines to stand in, a long list with still much to do, and I end up accomplishing LESS than if I had chosen joy. When I choose joy, my circumstances may remain the same, but my mind, body, and heart are released from paralysis and can choose creativity and/or peace.

I want to close by returning to a couple of comments Frank Laubach makes in his letters. He notices time and time again how he thinks more clearly during those times when his mind is on God.

"This concentration upon God is strenuous, but everything else has ceased to be so. I think more clearly, I forget less frequently. Things which I did with a strain before, I now do easily and with no effort whatever. I worry about nothing, and lose no sleep. I walk on air a good part of the time. Even the mirror reveals a new light in my eyes and face. I no longer feel in a hurry about anything…Each minute I meet calmly…I find also that the effort to keep God in my mind does something to my mind which every mind needs to have done to it. I am given something difficult enough to keep my mind with a keen edge. The constant temptation of every man is to allow his mind to grow old and lose its edge. I feel that I am perhaps more lazy mentally than the average person, and I require the very mental discipline which this constant effort affords."

I choose Jesus. I choose joy. And, I find that my mind is more present. I find that my heart is lifted out of the doldrums, and my body can pick itself up and move -- even if it means walking in the middle of the night with sheep bleating toward a stable where a little baby lies wrapped in swaddling clothes.