It’s a new year, and things have been strangely quiet around here so far. I’ve discovered that while I love to write about the beauty in the brokenness and finding joy in waiting, I don’t know yet what to say about finding joy in beauty.
That is to say: the world is more beautiful and full than I have known in a long time, and I’m afraid that even by admitting it, the clouds might roll in again. I’m afraid of writing about basking in the sun and alienating my dear friends still tiptoeing in the shadows.
I feel guilty about doing well.
It’s not fair, of course. Life isn’t fair. In the past few months, I’ve had friends face divorce, job loss, illness, and even pass away. They don’t deserve suffering on that plane any more than I deserve the light and loveliness I’m living in right now.
Last year, I made a resolution to abide with Christ, to lean in to rest and in to his love.
I couldn’t have imagined the ways I would learn to trust in God this year, through plenty and provision as well as through despair and doubt. And here in His gentle arms, I have found that I can rest assured that I will rest in safety.
This year the days already getting brighter, each day just a moment longer than the last, and I am drawn to the light. I am celebrating a yoke that is easy and a burden that is light, leaving behind more and more of the burdens I have carried for far too long.
I am still abiding, with the God who is light and in whom there is no darkness at all.
I don’t know how to write about light and beauty and joy yet, but I think this year I might just get a chance to learn.