The bee sting

I have been asked before and it happened again recently. Someone asked me a question, a well-meaning, slightly personal question and it was whether I take medication. No, they didn't mean it as funny. They were serious. It was during a conversation about a bee sting. Just a tiny little poke from a tiny little bee that was messing up my life. Of course, a bee sting is a not a big deal except when it happens to my little Garrett. It ruins that day and it ruins the next, and the next, and the next, until it heals. How annoying! I was describing this to a few of my friends. I was laughing, instead of crying, about the tantrums and screaming and fighting and testing that we were living through because G had been stung a few days before. One of friends simply asked how do I do it? It struck me as funny. I don't drink, except too much coffee. I don't take medication, except an occasional ibuprofen. I do something different. Something more powerful and harder and sweeter and simpler. I laugh and I smile and I thank my Jesus.

Don't we all know too well the feeling of defeat? The belief that we can't do it. That it's just too much. I know it. I live with it some days. There are the mornings where my little man climbs into my bed and asks for his milky juice in a tone that tells me that the day is going to be long and hard. There are moments when I walk away or take a very real deep breath because it's all I can do. We all feel and know personally what panic feels like as it wraps itself around our hearts. There are many ways to combat that enemy but for me it is finding the joy. I say that to my boys a lot and it always serves to remind me as well. I often, in their and my moments, when we just want to cry and scream and vent all that yuck inside, will say, "find the joy, guys". This week as the bee sting dominated our household I had to find the joy. I remember specifically driving home from school one day, with my Garrett wailing in the backseat, naming the joys and the biggest one was that Jesus knew my tears. None of the people driving past, not the other moms who looked on me with pity as I man handled a screaming kindergartner into my car, not even Garrett, knew my tears, but Jesus did. That thought made me smile and before I knew it I was laughing at the irony of a bee sting being such a powerful influence and how frustrating and hilarious that was. Let me tell you, there is nothing like the joy the Lord to combat anxiety. 

 I recently heard a podcast that challenged the listener to find in our toughest battles how God can be glorified. How can God be on display in autism? That's a tough question when I'm in the battle, when the bee is stinging, but really, it's the obvious. It's the love that exists and overwhelms the ugly. It's the giving thanks, celebrating victories, and choosing to laugh instead of cry. That's where God is displayed and it is the light that I shine often for Him. God will always make Himself known, sometimes we just have to try a little harder. Sometimes, we feel like we want to quit or we feel like we are loosing our battles. Those feelings are real and legitimate but God has hidden His joy somewhere, we just have to seek it out. There are times when I hunt it down like a crazy lady because I know it is all that will get me through. It a world where anxiety and stress and failure are so common, there is no better way to display Jesus than with His joy.

Yes, my life is stressful and if I needed medication or counseling, I would be grateful that God has made them available for me. For now, though, it is enough if I can just find the joy. I will dig in and laugh out loud as often as I can. When I need to cry, I will, but then I will move on and enjoy the comfort of my Jesus. There is a scripture in Psalms that says, "You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy." Like picking out what to wear for the day, wearing joy is a choice I make. I choose joy, over bee stings, over tantrums, over panic. A nice big serving of gladness, piled high with hope and topped with a dollop of laughter. That's my joy.