Celebrate Anyhow

February is my hardest month, for many reasons. I usually try to ignore it. This year, I'm fighting for JOY.

My mother passed away on February 1, 2019. I lost my Papaw on February 18, 2013. I never really cared much for February, but I have to admit that now, I really have to fight to find joy in it.

There are the anniversaries of loss, yes. But there’s also all the rain. And the resulting mud. And I don’t know about you, but all it takes it a handful of days without Vitamin SUN and I’m wilting.

If I’m honest, I see the calendar flip to February each year, sigh, tuck my head down, and power on. I grit my teeth as I throw yet another soggy pair of work pants into the washer, and I try to push away the memories of funerals under grey skies. I endure February.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Last week, as I stared down 28 days of slogging, John 16:33 came to mind. It’s an often-quoted verse, but not one that I’ve ever pulled apart intentionally, even after a multitude of sermons that have focused on it. This time, though, I took the words to heart.

Am I embracing the peace Jesus has offered?

Am I taking heart in the fact that He has overcome the world?

The answer, disappointingly , was no. I have been focused on just checking off the days, not on celebrating the fact that in spite of my tribulations, I have the promise of peace and life everlasting with my Savior!

So… I hung a garland.

Seriously— it’s a small thing. But in my tiny space, how I acknowledge that there is something in the air worth celebrating is by adding a little flourish above our dining room window seat. I did that. Then I bought some cupcake liners with hearts on them. And I asked a friend if she might be open to celebrating a Jesus-themed Valentine’s Day love fest with us. She, naturally, said yes.

Guys, it’s a small thing. Miniscule. But it’s taken that tiny seed of joy in my heart and watering it— not with the swirling overflow of our creek after yet another downpour, but instead with the Word of God, which does not return void. I’m celebrating in spite of.

In spite of not being able to wash clothes for days on end for fear of flooding our septic system.

In spite of dreams reliving my mom’s last moments.

In spite of longing to feel the sun on my face.

In spite of missing my grandfather so much it hurts.

I’m finding reasons to rejoice. I hope you are, too.

In Christ,

Heather