Joy stealers.

They’re real.

Since I talked to you last week, I have had some serious frustrations come galloping into my life in an attempt to trample anything that resembles joy.  If you believe in karma, you might think shouting my promise of joy for all to hear set off a series of cataclysmic happenings that can only be described as “a series of unfortunate events.”   It’s like the moment I reached out to claim joy, the universe decided I needed to be taught a lesson.

Or several.

Let me give you a couple of examples of what I mean.

I woke up Wednesday, the exact day my joy blog was to publish, with no voice.  Totally random.  I had no cold or cold symptoms, no warning signs, just no voice.  This is especially tricky since a large part of what I do for a living is talk to folks and answer the phone. 

Not real pleasant to squawk out a sentence when you sound like your vocal cords have been left over an open flame and are now an entire octave lower than normal.

In my neck of the woods, the flu is running rampant, so when I opened my mouth to speak I could vividly see the horror on the face of the one listening.  I’m pretty sure they would’ve run for it except for the unspoken, but very real, code of manners southerners have burned into their soul from infancy.  It is this code that forces us to stand and listen to even the most unpleasant conversation.  Feelings are a big deal here and we try our best to never openly hurt anyone’s.  

I assured soul after horrified soul they were not being exposed to the flu and I was certainly not sick, no need to cover their entire body with sanitizer after speaking to me. 

I just had no voice. 

But, even with laryngitis, I still tried to praise the Lord for what He had promised, joy was on the way!

I got a new car. 

I haven’t made a big deal out of it because, well, I just didn’t want it to be a big deal.  We’d been looking for just the right car for months and came upon our dream car and a deal we couldn’t pass up all at the same time.  We’ve been driving the shiny beauty for a couple of months now.

I love it.

The seats are comfortable for this old lady and it still sort of smells new and that just makes me happy.  We don’t buy new vehicles very often and maybe that’s why I’ve been so protective of this one.  I know it’s inevitable.  You know what I’m talking about.  It’s inevitable that someone or something will put the very first “ding” in the door or a shopping cart will be drawn to the bumper like a magnet leaving its trail of destruction on the fresh perfect paint.  I knew I it would eventually happen, I just wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

And my plan was working too!

I would park in the back, the very back, out where only the cows were grazing and hoof it for a country mile from my parking spot to the front door.  I’d done this in rain, sleet, snow and shine…literally. It was a small price to pay to keep my brand new shiny car, brand new.

So last night my daughter and I got home after dark.  My husband was out of town for the night and the next day was trash day.  My girl gathered all of our loot from shopping and headed in the house and I promised to follow as soon as I rolled our trash can out to the road.  Trash day is religious around here, you get one shot every week to dispose of all your rubbish and you better not miss it.  It’s a long time until the next trash day, trust me.   

We have a long skinny driveway and more than one car sits on it on a daily basis so wheeling our one hundred pound giant blue trash can filled with another hundred pounds of garbage down the skinny pavement filled with cars is no small feat.   Okay, so maybe it just FEELS like two hundred pounds.  This night my shiny new car was parked especially close to the edge of the drive where I needed to wheel the trashcan.   I made my way under the carport, grabbed a hold of the blue monster and started to tug it down the dark long driveway.  When I got close to my new car I made sure the trash receptacle cleared it by at least a foot.  It was exactly then the giant wrecking ball hit a root and stopped dead in its tracks. 

It weighs as much as me at this point so close to trash day, so when it stopped, I was jerked to a stop as well. At this point I was aggravated but not to be outdone by this plastic beast.  I mustered my strength and pulled hard, really hard. Brute strength and sheer will slowly pulled the can over the root but unfortunately also set it off balance.  Since there was only a foot of clearance between the shiny new car and the destruction on wheels, you can guess what happened next. 

The giant can filled with a week’s worth of garbage began tumbling toward the front fender of my precious new vehicle.

I feel like I watched it in slow motion.  I think I even yelled “Noooo” in slow motion. 

I found myself diving between the can and the car only to realize the can was going to land on me if I didn’t handle this carefully.  I twisted and turned and fought the blue monster to no avail and then I watched helplessly as the beast landed on my shiny new car and then headed for the ground.  It was dark, I was freezing, my car was scratched and I wished I had the strength to take the trashcan and throw it far, far away.  But, I didn’t.  I wanted to cry so bad, I’m pretty sure I did on the inside.  I wrestled it up from the ground and rolled it out to the curb muttering under my breath the whole way. 

Life seemed real hard at that moment.  I had the trashcan woes.

Once I slammed the beast against the curb, I walked back over to my car turned on my phone flash light and assessed the damage.  In the dark I got down on my knees and started rubbing the scratches in hopes they would disappear.  They didn’t.  It’s so ironic to me that I was the one to cause damage to my car, all of my protective measures couldn’t protect it from me. 

I sulked the rest of the night and had to apologize to my husband the next morning for blaming ALL of the whole world’s problems on him, including the trashcan, even though he wasn’t even in the same state. 

It wasn’t until a good friend called later that evening with an important prayer request I realized how completely silly I was being.  I told my friend my story, and she got so tickled and suddenly I began to see the humor in it too.  I mean, who else would go out and kneel by their car in the dead of night, with a phone flashlight stroking the fender?  She said, “You know Sandi, the Lord knows how to help us keep things in perspective.”

Isn’t that the truth?

I could tell you several more “incidents” that have happened this week, things that have tried to steal my joy.  But, I’ll spare you the gory details. 

I’m not going to give it up that easily.  I’ve waited years to feel the strengthening joy of the Lord flow through my soul and I’ve decided to praise Him with or without a voice.  The scratches on my car will be my vivid reminder of what really matters.  Next week when I wheel out the trashcan I’m going to thank the Lord for all the good in my life, so much that I have some left over to throw away by the curb.

I’m learning joy doesn’t mean it will be easy, but it does help us to see the beauty in the world around us.

I guess it’s all in how you look at it.

“You have filled my heart with greater joy.” Psalm 4:7