Choosing the joy

I was sharing my blog link with my college students the other day and I thought, I have lost focus of my purpose in blogging. Yes, it was to vent and journal my feelings but it was to choose joy one day at a time. I haven't been choosing joy lately. I have been filled with sorrow, resentment and anger. Sorrow, resentment and anger because my son is dead. But that will not bring him back. I know this with my head but heart keeps trying. But my focus here was to also choose joy. There was a time when I thought choosing joy again in my life would never be possible. I thought I would never laugh or smile or have any joy in my life. A time when I thought I would never stop crying. Thought I would never live again.
But I did. It came in a very strange place. I was on a mission trip in Arlington with 22 other people sleeping on the floor of a two bedroom apartment. One morning I got up before the students. Two other ladies were in the kitchen making breakfast. I was on cleanup crew so I sat in the living room and did my morning devotion. It was from Jennifer Rothschild's book Choosing Joy. As I read it she said that even in the worst of times you had the choice to choose joy and be thankful for your situation. That God had a plan and was working in your life through your tragedy so find joy and be thankful. I closed the book with a slam and thought that is easy for you to say Jennifer Rothschild. Big deal you are blind so it is easy for you to choose joy and be thankful. I will never be thankful and find joy in my son's death. That is ridiculous. I just put the book away and thought she doesn't know the pain I have.
We went to opening session and had worship and the whole time I told God that Jennifer was wrong. Nothing good was going to come from Jacob dying and I would never be glad much less thankful. We had lunch and headed to our afternoon Rainbow Express. This is like Backyard Bible Club except at an apartment complex in a part of town with at risk kids and hurting adults. My job was to linger on the outside and speak with any teens or adults who were watching. To try to get them to either come join the kids or just befriend them and show them Jesus' love. This apartment complex didn't have many teens but had a Muslim family who came every day and stood watching. We had been visiting with them but really not doing a lot of talking about Jesus. I knew the grandmother's sons had died and when she spoke of them there was such distraught anguish. She wailed and pulled at her face and clothes. I was sitting this day on the steps of their apartment speaking with a young man and his sister. He dad stood close by listening. I asked him about his mother who had died. Finally, I got the courage to ask him if he would ever see her again? The dad spoke up and said, "No, she is gone, dead." I told him I knew she was dead but what did they believe happened when someone died. In his broken English he told me, "Gone, no more, nothing." Tears formed in my eyes and I shouted at him, "No, you are wrong. That is not what happens. You need to know my God. My God." I looked him straight in the eyes, which by this time were not looking that friendly towards me but I continued. I told him no, that my God was alive not dead like his and because my son had a personal relationship with my God then I would see him again. I would see him again in Heaven. You have to know my God. Please." He looked rather shocked and our pastor walked over wondering what was happening because I was talking loudly and pleading with these people to know my God. I asked them what how do they get to Heaven. The son spoke up and told me you had to do many things to get into Heaven. Certain requirements you had to fulfill. I asked him if had done them all. He laughed and said no one could do them all. What? You mean when you die you will go to Hell? He just stared at me and then nodded. I told him no, no that doesn't have to happen. You can have a personal relationship with my God, Jesus Christ and you didn't have to do anything, just believe and he could go to Heaven. He could live again. He dad said we do believe in Jesus Christ. I questioned him, You believe he existed or you believe He is the son of God and your personal Savior. Again, I could not believe I was talking this strongly to this Muslim man who has little value for women. He went inside and got his video called Jesus. He said, "See, we know your Jesus. He was a great teacher, we know him. My pastor at that time began explaining God's love and grace. The grown daughter was translating to her father now because we were talking so fast. As he explained how none of us deserve God's love, none of us can ever "do" anything to get His grace but He gives it because He loves us. All we have to do is have a personal relationship with Him. As the daughter translated she became very excited and began talking even faster to her father. She was getting it. She told us no one had ever explained it to her like this. Her grandmother, whose sons' had died walked up and the daughter began excitedly telling her grandmother about Jesus and His great love for us. She was getting it. The father was quiet and listening. The son was sitting at my feet. I looked at him and asked him if wanted to hear more about my God. The Living God. He said yes and I told him about the apartment church that met there weekly. I told him I would tell them about him and they would come find him so he too could go to Heaven and live forever. We planted seeds that day. We spoke courageously. I got in the car and we began our drive back. As I sat there I began to realize how boldly I had spoken to these people. Before I was afraid of offending them but because I couldn't stand the thought of them believing that death was it. That people died and then they were no more I had gotten out of my comfort zone and spoke to them with great honesty. I realized I would not have done that if Jacob hadn't died, if I hadn't felt so passionately about my God and Heaven. I said, "Oh my, I am so glad Jacob died so I had the courage to speak like that." WHAT? What did I just say? I was laughing and crying. I was thankful my son had died so I could witness with fervor and maybe plant seeds that would take. I had found joy in his death. Joy.
We got back to the worship center and they always have praise time. This day they were running late and only had time for one praise. I literally jumped out of my seat and said, "Then pick me. I have an unbelievable praise." The man laughed and said go ahead. I told them the story of the Muslim family. But I told the group that is not the whole praise. The rest is that today I found joy and thankfulness for the death of my son a month earlier. That God showed me He does have a plan and even though I do not like it and miss my son beyond comprehension I can find joy in knowing that good is going to come from it. That God is still in control. I laughed I cried I felt so at peace.
Now I tell you that not to say that I accepted my son's death that day or was never sad again. My grief today is still as strong as it was that horrible day in February. But I have a choice each day. I can be miserable or I can choose joy and know that even in tragedy God is in control and good will come from it. I know that I will have bad, horrible days and that is ok. I will try to find joy in even those days. Some days it is hard to find joy in anything. But it is my choice. Somedays, the only joy I can find is in the sun peeping through the clouds, or I got green lights all the way to work. I will find joy even if it is the smallest thing. Each day I will wake up and ask God to show me joy in the day. And He does.