Several years ago while our home church was going through difficult days , it seemed that as a Christian, I was growing weaker and weaker. Typical for me, I went to my oldest sister and questioned her as to what could be causing my weakness. The answer she gave was surprisingly simple, I had lost my joy. The latter part of Nehemiah 8:10 states that the joy of the Lord is your strength. Even King David in his prayers of confession and forgiveness in Psalm 51 asked our Lord to restore the joy of thy salvation.
     When we lose our joy, we lose our strength. This truth about joy applies to any area of our life whether you are the salesperson who has lost their edge, or the Mother who has lost joy in the honor of taking care of her children.  Tell me Mothers don't get there and I will  strongly disagree. I have been there several times along the journey.
     Years ago with a 16 month old daughter, a 4 year old daughter, a 7 year old son and a 9 year old daughter I arrived at the local tent meeting.  Courteously excusing myself into an aisle of elderly ladies. I overheard one lady sweetly state, " She's so blessed". I continued on, getting settled without acknowledgement of her statement which was about me, not to me.  After about an hour I had a crying baby,  a pouted up preschooler, and 2 bickering older children. Leading my four back out of the aisle and completely out of the meeting I paused only to say, " Excuse me while I go whip my blessings".. They did not get a whipping but I'm sure they were disciplined and that poor lady as well as her friends eagerly stood up to let me pass when I came back.  I had never stopped being their Mother but for that space of time, I had lost my joy.    Take a look at yourself. Are you serving joyfully or just serving?  Are you living with joy or just living ? It is always an option to live and serve with joy and the true beauty is that we can make a choice. today we were given 1440 minutes to do it in.. Where is your joy ? He can and will restore it if you ask.....
     For those reading and seeking humor, yes it is here as promised but it is from a previous meeting with a life changing memory.
     With a ten month old daughter, a 4 year old son and a 6 year old daughter, I made my annual trip to the Land of the Sky Jubilee in Asheville N.C.  Dressed, as I have since been told by my oldest daughter, as a walking valentine, in my bright red dress trimmed in white and my then infamous red spelletto heels, I was a happy lady.  Feeling quite accomplished for arriving early, I opted to place my son for the first and last time ever in a church provided nursery, giving his little hand over to a young energetic girl.   Following a great service, the problems began. Headed to the nursery which was one floor down,  I landed in a heap of disarray and bruises, after catching my heel in the rug at the top of the stairs, and tumbling down the entire flight, with my baby still in my arms. Melissa tearfully insisted on going for help while I profusely threatened her, not wanting anyone to see me, much less try to help me up.  Now upright with a half broke shoe, I was on to the nursery.  Stopping at the 1/2 door leading into the nursery and looking as motherly and compiled as possible I realized that the young lady I had left Trae with had been replaced by an older lady that took her job way too serious. Putting on my church smile,  I stated how much I appreciated the service they provided and informed that I was here to pick up my son Trae. The older lady gave me a strong look and informed me that I would not be picking up anyone by the name of Trae as they did not even have a child by that name. Thinking I may have for some unusual reason, given him to the young girl by his legal name, I requested him by that name. This request seemingly made me look worse as his legal name is nothing close to Trae. The aged lady asked me to step back and informed me that I would not be allowed to enter the nursery as she sent for additional staff.  Within what was an eternity of minutes I saw Trae walking behind her in the hallway.  Relieved that he was alive and present I explained to her that he was my son.  Trae happy to be playing, kept walking, never looked my way. Only after  all the other males were picked up and the young girl reappeared to verify that he was mine, was Trae allowed to leave. Melissa having endured as much stress as a 6 year old could, leaned over to give Trae a hug. It was then she discovered the cause of the mass confusion. "Mama look, his name badge doesn't say Trae". Kneeling to regroup I read on my 4year old sons chest,  the name  "Frank" in bold blue letters. "  Son, why in the world does this say Frank ?"  With 4 year old innocence he replied, " The lady asked me what I wanted to be called and I've always liked that name". Never again in 30 years of countless church services,  youth rallies, revivals, camp meetings, jubilees or conferences have I ever used a nursery. As for Frank, God graciously called him to preach.  Sitting with him last year at the land of the Sky Jubilee and thinking of the scripture that states you reap what you sow, I slyly suggested his sons might enjoy the nursery. I was given an adamant  "No" and a smile.Thank you Lord  "There is joy for the journey"