John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (ESV)

The day began in a chaotic symphony of noise. One wanted their bread toasted. The other did not want their bread toasted. “It’s just bread”, I try to argue as yogurt is smeared across the counter by curious little hands. There is no underwear left in the drawer apparently, and – of course- we are running late. Again. My husband was away on a trip leaving me alone with two little girls and a mountain of dirty pink laundry. Sometimes peanut butter makes for a good breakfast and dinner.

Overtired and slightly cranky, I put my best face forward and pressed on in order to get my children out the door. One wanted their window rolled down. The other wanted their window rolled up. Round and round the wheel we go, chasing high’s but finding low’s.

Several months ago I stood with my husband at said yogurt-smeared kitchen counter and poured out the contents of my soul- my mind and emotions- sharing that I felt challenged to embrace the chaotic moments of child-rearing and hold tight to the joy found within them. The days may seem long, but the years are so very short. I knew that one day I would miss the days of neediness and routine, so I was choosing to love bath time puddles and tripping over long-abandoned toys.

I was taking a stand against the cyclone of changing emotion and choosing joy in the moment.

Finally, we made it out of the house and were on route to our destination. One car window was up, one car window was down. As I was driving, listening to the mix of bickering and giggles floating up from the backseat, I found myself in a daydream like state asking The Lord to help me with my surliness for I was not happy in the moment.

Why am I so stressed and exhausted? Why do I feel so alone in my emotional wandering?

Idling at a stop light, I pressed the side of my face into the window. The coolness of the glass radiated over my skin.

Where, oh where, does my help come from?

And then, in the briefest flicker of time, a seam in my heart split open and the overflow spread over my soul like the lapping of water against a shoreline. It was hope that I felt in the fluttering. It was joy that spread its bounty if only for a second.

I was reminded by the gentleness of His spirit that we are never promised happiness. Happiness was not what I had asked for either. No, it was joy that I was choosing. It was my choice. I was reminded that I have been in this place before. I was reminded that there is an enemy of our soul that desires nothing more than steal, kill, and destroy our joy and moments of communion with our Heavenly Dad.

Father, I was reminded that you came to give us a life of abundant joy even though our emotions are fleeting. You are not fleeting though, and that is where our joy must come from: knowing- embracing- that you desire to be with us in the midst of the chaos, standing firm beside us, speaking through the noise.