At church this morning with some friends, the sermon was on joy. Real joy - the kind that bubbles up from your soul like natural hot springs - not the general happiness that's so dependent on our feelings and circumstances. We looked at Paul, who was always joyful, yet his life was filled with troubles.
As the pastor spoke, I thought of the hours I spent yesterday in our front garden. After weeks of neglect and lots of rain, some of my flowers were barely visible amongst all the weeds. Armed with a trowel, gloves and a folded sheet for my knees, I did battle and reclaimed the area for my plants. To prevent the weeds from coming back, we covered the area with mulch.
It was hot and dirty work, but it was totally gratifying to rid the beds of weeds and put the focus back on the colorful blooms.
The past few months have been a season of work, which has made me weary - the kind of weariness that goes all the way to the depths of your soul. There has been little creative thought, let alone joy. And I'm tired of that. I miss the unstoppable, unexplainable joy bubbling in my soul.
So I'm going to work on reclaiming the garden of my soul from the weeds that have taken over and put the focus on what really matters.
