Joy Comes In the Morning

I found myself sitting around, baking in the beautiful afternoon sun in our garden for an Easter Brunch when a friend asked me, “What have you been doing with your art lately?” I hesitated. I didn’t have an answer ready for that question. Rather, the answer was simply, “Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

I had given up Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, all social media in hopes of replacing the time wasted with pursuit of things I love most. Instead of feeding my creativity, I found myself devoid of any inspiration. My sketchbooks left in their place on the shelf. My phone filled up with note after note in my saved drafts;  thoughts sparked and observations noted, only to be forgotten. Ideas to be partially realized and then left to collect dust in the recesses of my mind. I wished to fill my time refocusing and finding myself presently. Instead when I looked, it felt as if presently I lost sight of my little dreams and aspirations.

Yes, to be fair to myself, I’ve been working, and I’ve got a few commitments that eat away at the precious hours I get between work and sleep, and I do hope to eat and shower on occasion. But what was my drive beyond mere compulsion of keeping on? What was I getting up for each morning? I felt listless.

The Lenten season brought about great fruits of understanding discipline and responsibility in my life. The drudgery of existence is hard. Not in the emo-middle school phase, but just in the day in and day out toil of doing the damn thing. But with that learning, it’s that scale of life that seems to tip this way and that but seems difficult to balance it in the middle. I’ve noticed as well as these good fruits I received, I began to recognize the pitfalls of myself, namely my confusion of complacency and contentedness. I find myself acutely aware of just how afraid I am of what God spoke into my heart just a week before Lent began: PROVISION. The word clearly written on my heart—caps lock, bold, and italics included. Instead, I hid behind excuses that what I was doing was “good enough” and “where He wants me,” failing to actually allow room for God to continue to speak into what He wished to provide in my life. He said again, “But wait, you of such little faith, I have so much more that awaits you than what you’ve tasted.”

And with that, I remember just how much that God has told me of His title as Provider. Not only was it clearly spoken to me now, but He let these words hit my heart so deeply that I made a decision to have a tattoo based on it. And here I am, awaiting my second tattoo on this same theme again this summer, which I felt calling to me so clearly in Matthew, chapter 6:

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown in the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?”

I failed to see the way in which God creates, and the imagination of the Creator with something so simple as a wildflower, forgotten a moment after its noticed. Just because I cannot sit to stare at each gallardia, bluebonnet, and every other wildflower sitting outside my window doesn’t mean that God hasn’t taken the time to do just that. Just because my life is little doesn’t mean it goes unnoticed or it’s worth conceding to mediocrity. How have I been able to believe then that my life is made to be any less than a vibrant, unique, and unforgettable adventure?

And that was where the light pierced through and the veil was lifted. I felt close to the apostles, unable to believe when others told them that Jesus was no longer in the tomb. I realized my blindness to the truth that is Christ's unrelenting promise of a life worth living. I sat sulking in the upper room of my mind, failing to notice Him breaking the bread with me. I failed to notice Him walking along side me on a dusty road to Emmaus. But with open eyes to these truths this Easter season, my hands found freedom—freedom to bask in the beauty of their Creator and attempting by any means possible to partake in the riches of His imagination.

So the answer is “Nothing." I didn’t do anything this Lenten season when it came to my expectations to pursue the beauty of the Lord. But as Psalm 30 reminded me constantly during Lent and then again as Easter entered in and the world was re-illuminated, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning."

The Virtue of Waiting

It has been a looooong time since I've been on this blog. So if you've been waiting for a new post, thanks for your patience. If not, thanks for your patience while you read this post. In fact, with the worst segue I could ever make, I'll let you know that's actually what I'll be talking about today: patience.

Often, I find myself repeating the classic adage, "Patience is a virtue," typically in jest to my niece when she cannot wait for cookies to cool down or a friend when we're complaining about waiting for a new album to be released. I find myself constantly throwing around this proverbial phrase without thinking about it. And today, among thinking of other things, I realized it's something I need to remind myself of more often.

You see, today was my day off from work. And for once, my day off from work coincided with a day without plans. Ah, freedom. There were so many possibilities of what I could spend my day doing. Do I sit in bed and spend the next seven hours finishing Making a Murderer on Netflix? Do I begin to pack up my room for moving? And then I saw my sweet little coloring book that I had been waiting to sit down and spend time with.

Last summer, as I spent the afternoon catching up with my friend, Rebecca, I found myself mesmerized by the whimsical pages of Johanna Basford's coloring book that she was working on while we spoke. The pages were intricate and reminded me of my own imagination as a child fueled by faeries and lost gardens. I had asked for one of her coloring books for Christmas. To my surprise, two of my favorite people gave me her books!

The Measuring Stick of Success

Someone I know recently asked: How do you measure success?

One person suggested that they would see themselves as successful when they were featured on Ellen. I found several other people suggesting that success came with happiness.

After this week, I'm not so sure that I would fit my definition in either one of those categories when it comes to success.

Looking into my life from the outside, I am by no accounts successful. I am working a seasonal job at Target. I live with my parents. Yep, I just put that out there and I hate it. It makes me grit my teeth to admit where I am in my life right now. It has left me in a period where I have had to make strides to overcome self-pity along with self-hate. I have had to make strides to see that this point in my life is not a measure of my success.

So here I am again, walking my parent's dog and asking myself: How do I measure success?

Ellen? Happiness? Fulfillment?

Getting Schooled

Two months ago I began a new job as a receptionist at a preschool. I made the decision to leave my job for reasons I won't get into here. As a receptionist, I didn't expect to work so closely with the students, but I ended up in the classrooms nearly everyday. I didn't expect to become attached to these toddlers and preschoolers, but somehow they managed to worm their way into my hard heart and soften it.

On Wednesday, I was helping with the private kindergarten class and as I headed back to the front desk, the entire class came up and collectively hugged me. It was like a giant dogpile of four and five years olds near my knees. *cue heart melting* As I was driving to work yesterday, I was reflecting on the impression that has been made on me these couple months working every day with kids. So here's three life lessons learned from working in a preschool:

Daily Virtue

Between my shifts at work, I drove over to the library yesterday to finish up my paper which I finally had a breakthrough on writing... Only to find that it wasn't open until 1 pm. How frustrating! Well, lucky for me, I found out that there's a Catholic church a couple blocks down with Perpetual Adoration, so thanks be to God for making an even better day out of my Wednesday.

I went into the chapel and opened up the browser on my phone to BlessedIsShe's daily devotion, which all you ladies should check out. The day's reflection was called On the Journey based on Luke 9:1-6 and asked, "How is God calling you to proclaim the Kingdom?"

Honestly, this has been a question I have been struggling with myself lately. I have been struggling to find my worth in the Lord when I haven't been able to serve His Kingdom in an intentional ministry. I work a job with crazy hours and find myself with a couple hours in the afternoon to work on school work and then a couple in the evening to try and relax and prepare for my next 4:30 am wake-up call.

As I was driving home this week, a phrase came to me about what I'm gaining from this semester at home: daily virtue. I am constantly doing the opposite of what I want to do. I do not want to wake up at 4:30 to make it work on time. I do not want to make my bed before I've even had time for coffee. I do not want to pray a Rosary in the morning when I barely have the brain cells to form sentences. I do not want to work on my school work during my break from work.

More than anything, I do not want to answer this call I have to love others unceasingly. It is so difficult to love my mom when I'm exhausted and dinner isn't ready yet. It is so difficult to love my students' parents when they come to pick them up long day and get frustrated because I have to tell them they have a late fee on their account. It is so difficult to love my friends when I've had a long day and so have they and they call me needing to vent about it and all I want to do is turn my brain off. Sometimes it feels like I am up to my eyeballs in the love I know I need to give to others. I am in a battle with myself to fight this sour attitude I so easily fall into.

But. BUT.

How does your garden grow?

And finally, I write to you, happy new year! I wish one of my new year's resolutions were to blog more frequently, but with a full plate, it is not only good but right to let some things slide. It seems that as the Lord continues to grow the garden in my heart, He also has to prune and pull the weeds. It's not the weeds that are difficult to let go, but sometimes pruning can be a pain.

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing."
— John 15:1-5

 The Lord has given me, and every one of us, a promise that if we allow Him to, he will allow our lives to flourish. Sometimes we hold on to people, things, or sins that are dead or overgrown. He is not taking these things away because He wants to see us unhappy, but because He love us! He is the greatest gardener and knows the fruit that this will bring us, the new life we will find.

Anyway

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

From Where I Stand

Sometimes moving on means assessing where we are. How often when we're lost do we stop to see where we are before deciding which way to turn? For myself, I have made decisions without assessing where I'm coming from and where I intend to go. So instead, I have made a conscience decision to see where I stand and have understood that where I stand is a threshold to happiness.

I chose my blog name– Threshold to Happiness– because I long for fulfillment and peace in my life, but this is something I need to choose everyday. I need to choose happiness. Choose joy. Choose God. The biggest part of finding this kind of fulfillment cannot be found on this blog, but rather by going outside and soaking up some vitamin d, spending time drinking coffee and sharing my heart with a good friend, and taking a bubble bath on a Friday afternoon. More importantly, I have found that true fulfillment means seeking Christ in all ways. I'm by no means perfect, but this blog is another way of helping me navigate and understand the things I've learned in my own life.