The one where the only work I do is writing, so I don't have to stay up until my eyelids droop at night to pound out words. The one where if I work, it's in a field that is actually stable and crunching numbers to stay afloat isn't my other job. The one where I have time to do things in the evenings, like cook good meals and maybe take a walk before it's dark because I will get yelled at by my neighbors once it's dark.
But, I have to put an end to this cherry-living thinking.
Red is an eight sided figure that tells me to stop.
I hardly even like cherries. They are too tart and I don't like the pits and if I'm going to eat a bowl of something red it would be strawberries.
All the time, it's this back and forth battle with what I think I want and what God knows I need.
I can barely see the stop sign.
I started a joy journal, like an extension or continuation of the 1000 Gifts I've been doing.
Although the gifts were teaching me something before to be sure, up until now, I think I've treated it like a homework assignment, something I could scribble down and say I found joy.
My vision is so easily blurred.
I can't just spot a tulip in the grass and say I've found joy. Maybe it is joy. I struggle through and count it all joy, and in this season, it comes by finding the pink and orange hues in the horizon after the thunderstorm, laughing until I'm crying with a friend, inside jokes with cousins. I'm finding joy comes in the midst of stories and story as joy. And almost always the backdrop is still struggle, not carefree, bowl of cherry living.
I want to see all the tiny specks as joy, the flowers, the trees, the butterflies, but I'm starting to realize that God knows me and grows my faith through connecting together all the beautiful pieces of this journey.
I can look back and I can look ahead seeing the joy that He has laid before me. It's better than what I would choose.
Linking with Lisa-Jo and Emily today.