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Introspective Sojourner

The journey inward following Christ’s path to that person I was uniquely created to be.

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A Walk in the Garden

I walked through the garden, taking in all the colors and scents. A quiet stream flowed gently through it. The peace was consuming. It was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. More colors than I knew existed, and the flowers were wildly complex and intricate. The grass was high and lush, gently swaying in the breeze. It was warm. Perfectly comfortable. It was perfect.

“Is this Heaven?” I asked turning toward Jesus.

“No, but the veil is thin here.”

“How did I find this?”

“It’s a gift from the Holy Spirit.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Time is different here. Like if you were to zoom in on a circle so closely that what you see is a straight line. A moment here is like that. It’s perspective.” He smiled gently ensuring I understood. I did. Time was slow and full here.

I was singing again. Like I could hear a song and was singing along. I was so grateful for the song. It filled my heart. Tears rolled down my cheeks. 

Jesus gently took a flower and leaned it toward my hand. The second it touched me, I could hear its song. It was magical. Somehow my song harmonized perfectly. Like my soul knew the flower was singing even if my ears couldn’t hear it before. I reached for another flower without letting go of the first. It had a song too. All three different. All three beautifully complemented each other, like a small orchestra. The beauty and the scents all adding to this amazing garden. Jesus smiled as he watched me take it in.

“The whole garden is singing?”

“Yes, even the rocks cry out.”

I recognized the reference. Another tear. 

“It’s overwhelming, it’s so beautiful. And this isn’t Heaven?”

“You aren’t ready yet. You’re still learning your song. Heaven is so much more.”

“Can’t I learn my song there?”

“Some people do. But that’s not His plan for you. The world needs a little of your song. Your children and grandchildren – they need to hear more of it. Their roots aren’t as strong. Your song and the harmony you and your husband bring to each day and each other, it sings to their spirit. They don’t even notice sometimes but their spirit does.”

“We aren’t always in harmony.” I said looking down sadly. I knew that I played a part in that. 

“The moment you accepted me, I touched your spirit. I placed that song in you like a seed. The Holy Spirit has been protecting it, helping it find deeper soil. Helping the soil become more rich, and gently teasing out the roots. Some seeds land in rich soil immediately. Some seeds do not, and the soil has to be tended to first. You have wanted to burst out of that shell from a very young age. You heard the song, and you wanted to grow like these flowers to sing your song with all your heart, but the soil wasn’t ready. You needed the protection of the shell as the Spirit tended to it. You were still learning your song, but it wasn’t time to sing it to the world. Little by little your roots have shot out and moved deeper and deeper. You were thirsty for the Spirit, to hear the whole orchestra. But you…” He said looking directly in my eyes, “get distracted by other pieces of the song. Wanting other seeds to open before they are ready, before the soil is ready.”

I thought about the times I had tried to encourage spiritual growth in my husband or my kids. Maybe force it. Wanting to point out the splinter in their eye while ignoring the log in my own. I thought I was helping. 

I nodded my head slowly and asked, “Did I mess things up?”

“Of course not. The Spirit gently redirected those roots to where they needed to go. It’s not your job to help them grow. That’s His job. He’s got it under control. Their part of the song is different from yours. They have to learn their part, not yours. The Spirit sees the whole score, like a conductor. Some of the parts need to repeat and play again stronger or softer to support the score. Your part has had repeats too.”

“I thought I just hadn’t fully learned that lesson.” I smiled weakly.

“That’s not the whole truth though. You kept moving forward and kept searching for God. And that helped others to want to search for Him both when you seemed to be doing a good job and when you seemed off track. Sometimes people needed to feel right or superior to find their way. It’s all part of the song. The Spirit used both the harmony and the dissonance to make something beautiful.”

“When will I grow flowers?”

“If you grow flowers too soon your stems will break. That’s not what is planned for you. You can’t look at those who are supposed to have long and bending stems because that’s not the kind of flower you’ll support. You need deeper roots and stronger stems because I have something truly unique planned for you. You also can’t look at your strong stems and compare it to others who are supposed to bloom fast with soft stems. The garden needs them all. You aren’t the gardener, I am. You need those types of flowers to strengthen your soil. You don’t see the big picture. It’s not time.”

I nodded. “I don’t trust you enough.”

“No one does. You’re trying. You’re still learning.” He pointed to a rose and continued, “You know how a rose bush pushes out beautiful blooms and then they die off so the stems can come in stronger, and the blooms can be even more beautiful. Learning is something like that. Keep singing your song. Keep growing your roots. Trust me. Trust the Spirit. There’s so much more than you can imagine.”

I could feel the world coming closer to the garden, pulling me away. “Is my time here over now?”

“For now. But you can return anytime you need to. You know the song. You know the way.”

I felt the love and heard the song again – like the orchestra had burst out around me. Sweeping me away for the longest moment.

Another tear rolled down my cheek and I could hear my church singing. I opened my eyes to those standing around me singing to Him. Worshiping. I could feel the Spirit. He was thick in the room with those who’d gathered. All the saints reaching out to touch and be touched by Him. Roots growing, a song being revealed. In His time. According to His plan. 

Something more than I could ever imagine.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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The Pruning of Me

Pruning my roses is cathartic for me. I love searching out the right spot to trim back to. I know that trimming the bushes will allow them to bloom again; fuller and stronger. I see the deep color of the new leaves. I see the thicker, heartier stems pushing through and hints of blooms to come. 

There are parallels to my life and faith. I’m not always happy when God prunes – especially when the decay goes deep. Things I’ve struggled with for a long time that I know need to be cleared away for me to grow. They are familiar and I get anxious when He says they have to go. 

I look at my childhood and see the blooms I once had. I miss them. 

“Remember when I prayed all the time and ran around singing hymns, God?” 

He tells me that He loved those blooms too, but to trust Him, the new blooms will be even better. I worry that my faith was stronger and might never be that way again. He reminds me that I needed that faith to survive the childhood ahead of me and the trauma I would go through.

I learned to go to Him at a very young age, afraid that everyone would abandon me. I would need to know to turn to Him and believe He would always be there even when my world shifted under me.  I would need that when my mom was institutionalized again. 

I learned to be grateful for my life and my wonderful friends. I have been blessed with the best friends my whole life. He shows me that I needed them to counteract the hate I experienced from my family. I needed their kind words to hear Him tell me that I was enough – that I was loveable. 

Now my faith is my own, not words of others that I believed without question. I have gone through deep seasons of doubt. My faith has been tested, and He has proven Himself faithful. I have so much to be grateful for. Even during my biggest struggles, He brought me joy. I know this without question now.

He is the author of the new growth in me. He created the new blossoms ready to bloom. I have had my share of pain – often at my own doing, avoiding the deepest cuts He needed to make. 

I find myself grateful tonight for the blooms that once were, now cut away. I see the beauty in them as they were at their peak. That beauty lets me trust in the promise of what God is yet to do in my life. I see the new leaves. I see the stronger stems. 

I’m sure there will still be whining about the cuts – after all I am still me. But I know I can trust Him because He sees the me He designed me to be.

 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

0

All My Life You Have Been Faithful

All my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good.

‘Cause your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Titusville Presbyterian church with the wall of organ pipes that are like the breath of God, where I first sang songs to you.

From the vacation Bible study somewhere in Cherrytree Pennsylvania where I learned the joy of singing of your love.

From the Hydetown Baptist church where Pastor Larry Hellein touched my heart, and I first came forward to your alter. Where I was baptized and pledged my life to you. Where a youth group strengthened my faith and Gordon Turk and Ken Jackson taught us your word. Where I sang my first solo and almost never sang another, that was so scary.

From the Free Methodist youth group that showed me everyone is accepted and loved.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Navy Chapel in bootcamp, to the one on Fort Meyers where I clung to what I knew.

From the Assembly of God church, and the boy’s God parent’s, Gary and Sharon Seifrit, who scooped up a broken little family and took them in and set us on a right path again.

From the Navy Chapel in Pearl Harbor and the choir that adopted a little single parent family. Where the officer’s women’s Bible study took in the one enlisted female looking for a morning Bible study and loved her so well. From the Navy Chapel’s choir and single’s group that helped me renew my faith. Where Pastor Stephen Sloat led and deepened my walk with you and looked out for a young me searching to be loved.

From a Pearl Harbor Sub Base Chapel and it’s choir that accepted and loved me and Jerry and started our walk with you.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Folsom Presbyterian Church that became Journey church, with Pastor Del Burnett who made Jerry and I part of a church family. With Pastor Keith Posehn who made Jerry and I youth group leaders and filled our lives with the joy of service, and the youth group kids who loved us as much as we loved them. From Pastor Toby Nelson who taught us Greek and “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us” Eph 3:20.  From Pastor Mike Umbenhaur and Pastor Dave Huusko who continued our faith journey at Journey church. And the choir we sang in so diligently. Learning how to sing with all our souls from Anne Indermill and Len Jones. Where Anne and Mark Indermill and Bob Surridge encouraged me to try another solo. That was probably my last.

While the prayers of a Bible Study with Marya Morgan, Ann Patchen, Yvonne Roe and Jan Williamse prayed for me constantly and loved me through the death of my father.

Where Journey church and Hope Church taught me that splitting a church is never a good idea, and my heart was broken, as half the people I loved chose to move away from the other half that I loved. Where my heart died a little more as members moved on to other cities and other states.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

Where Sophie Agricola and Lee and Jen Stacy showed me, I could find another church family at Vintage Grace church. Where Pastor Drew Sodestrom rekindled my faith and gave me phrases like #ButGod #WithGod, “God’s better is better” that preserved me through a dark season of job loss and a pandemic. Where my faith became trust and seeking your face deeper than I had ever before. Where a Life Group sustained my daily walk with love, and hands that showed me your love in a very tangible way.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

To Ohio and the Rivertree Massillon church and Pastor Jake Garmany who has continued our journey as we live closer to my family. To the Bible study led by Doug and Sonji Gregory who deepen my faith and give me a home to talk of your great love and amazing power.

And all my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good. With every breath that I am able. I will sing of the goodness of God.

So many friends who I’ve met at church and work and school. You have filled my life from every corner. Through every season. My life is so full it is overflowing and I pray your love spills out of me to everyone you have brought me to love, and everyone who is in my life. From the stranger in line at a cash register to the best friend I could ever ask for Faith Thompson. To my faith journey partner Jerry Pugliese who encourages me and supports me and worships you with me. May your love spill over into their lives so that they might feel your presence as I have… all my life and into the lives of my children and grandchildren.

May the years I have left be more of the same. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus, I am so grateful for your goodness and love.

Oh Lord hear my prayers and worship.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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God’s Appetizers

Sitting in my sunroom this morning during devotions, I felt content. The sky was blue and vast making me feel cozy and warm in my favorite chair. There was smoke billowing from a neighbor’s chimney and my home felt nestled in. Just a smattering of snow dusted the roof and birds were singing and playing about reminding me as I clutched my warm cup of coffee that spring was on its way. My dog was hunkered down beside me and the house was quiet and still. I was grateful for this life that God has given me, so filled by its goodness.

A little post from my best friend on the park we used to spend a lot of time at as kids, made me remember all of the fun we had hanging out. The many walks to and from the various parks that surrounded our little town filled with fun conversations and strong bonding moments. I don’t recall conversations, only feeling close to my friends as we spent time together. I can hear our laughter and feel the smiles and happiness we shared. My childhood was filled with so many friends that loved me dearly for exactly who I was. Hours and hours spent with each other. The mundane filled with something indescribably fulfilling. 

Which is a bit ironic because a week ago, I sat in that exact same chair. It felt far more wintery than spring. There was more snow, and the sky was gray, and I was feeling empty. I was focused on the dead plants surrounding me (they were still there this morning), and how the sunroom seems to be becoming more of a catch all storage room than my favorite devotions hang out. That same quiet peacefulness felt like a blanket of heaviness, and I felt disconnected and dissatisfied. I was ruminating on the trauma from my childhood and its correlations to the current feelings of being overwhelmed I had that day. 

I was looking back to that same childhood focused on the pain and how I couldn’t wait to get out of that town. The desire to flee the expectations of perfection that I would never live up to. The weight of the responsibility that I felt had been inappropriately laid on me. How my inability to be perfect ruined everything and caused all of the troubles our family had. How alone and rejected I felt, incapable of being the person I was expected to be. 

What changed? Well, there was a great sermon about this life being the appetizer and not the meal. The weather has warmed up and the sun was out. The birds are coming back and showing signs of spring – but mostly what I was focused on had changed. All of the other changes were minor, perhaps assisting me to focus on the things I love, but life had not changed. I had the same memories of childhood last week as I did this morning. I just was taking out the happy ones and reexamining them, feeling those emotions.  Letting that memory fill me up with contentment. I wasn’t brow beating myself over my shortcomings. I wasn’t holding others to a measure no one could meet. Happiness today wasn’t being measured by “what have you done for me lately” and how my life had threads of pain all through it. But happiness today was being measured by how full my life has already been and the expectation that I have more time to add to that aresenal. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m such a drama queen. My life is such a rollercoaster when nothing has really changed. But life is so much more exponentially full if I reexperience the highs and lows in my memory. If I feel the laughter my best friend and I had as we played at the park; the spinning of the merry-go-round, the feel of the wind in my hair as we pushed our swings higher, or the excitement of the unknown on the teeter totters. Mostly when I remember the feeling of love and acceptance of hanging out with friends. That knowing that I could just be myself. 

This world is the appetizer, and it is not meant to be the meal, but appetizers can be so good. Appetizers can whet your appetite for the good that is to come. They can open conversations and let the fun begin long before your order is ever prepared. I need to remember to enjoy the appetizer because it’s all part of the experience God prepared for me. And it can fill me up until the much anticipated meal arrives. 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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I Just Need Sunshine

“I just need sunshine, Lord”. The words had barely escaped my lips, as I sat on my sun porch, when the words of the next song “Remember Me” by Mark Schultz started up.

Remember Me. In a Bible cracked and faded by the years.
Remember Me. In a sanctuary filled with silent prayer.
And age to age and heart to heart, Bound by grace and peace.
Child of wonder, child of God. I’ve remembered you…
Remember me.

In a moment only God could design, the sunshine broke free from the clouds just as the words “Child of wonder” were sung. I did remember… many silent prayers in different sanctuaries. I had recently had my childhood Bible returned by my best friend; cracked and faded by many years. I have experienced more than my share of grace and peace.

Overwhelmed and touched so deeply by such a small moment, I felt all the love from all the little moments just like this. All the sunrises and sunsets that were little hugs from God when I needed them most. All the beauty of spring babies that brought me joy over the years – baby cows, baby horses, baby ducks. All the precious moments where my husband, kids, and grandkids have shown me how much I am loved and needed. All the laughter and fun spent with my most precious relationships. The myriad of friends who God has brought into my life exactly when I needed them. Words of encouragement that stuck with me for years to come.

One little timely window of sunshine and I’m placed back on my feet to continue my walk with God. How many of these moments have I forgotten? How many have I not even realized occurred? (That’s far more likely with me. I do miss a lot.) My life has been filled with stress, troubles, trauma, and pain but when I look back – at least this morning – I see all the grace and peace. What a beautiful tapestry my life has been. No tear has been wasted. No heartache has failed to soften me. 

I can’t even imagine a life with out my Lord. My heart hurts for those who don’t have this. I have people I pray for daily, that they would choose Christ or turn back to Him. I want desperately for them to know this grace and peace.

But this morning, I remember. I am grateful for such a God who cares this deeply for me.

By 

Vicki L. Pugliese

1

One Last Chance

Jake was giving God one last chance as he got out of his car at the church on the corner. Life had been so hard, especially lately. Shoving the pain down one more time he headed towards its doors.

She saw the elderly woman take a shaky step onto the ramp that covered the stairs. It didn’t have any handrails. She thought about how her own mother was comforted and steadied by taking her arm as they walked, so she offered it to the woman. The elderly woman smiled and thanked her. They chatted about the weather as they walked down the ramp and parted ways.

A mom carrying a small child saw the woman offer her arm and smiled. She loved this church even though she had only been there a couple of times. 

“Good morning, did you need help finding something?” a man standing at a visitor’s booth nearby asked her.

“Is the children’s ministry still down this way?” she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, but you have to go around because of the construction. Here let me show you,” he said walking towards her.

They walked around a shed to get back to the doorway. He was pleasant and her son warmed up to him quickly.

Someone met them at the door and the nice man told her to have a wonderful day. The young woman at the door showed her how to check in her son and walked her to the room with children his age.

The man who had walked her around the construction went back to his booth, greeting everyone he passed. He stopped for a second to chat with someone he knew. They exchanged a laugh.

Probably an inside joke, Jake thought as he approached them.

The man looked Jake in the eyes and said, “Good Morning!” His smile was bright.

Jake mustered a small smile and a nod. He was following the people who seemed to know where they were going, but in the few seconds it had taken to walk here from his car, he was feeling his mood brighten.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” asked another man coming along side of Jake.

Jake nodded thinking, it was a pretty friendly church but that didn’t really prove anything. Still, he was glad they were.

A pleasant woman with bulletins greeted them at the door. The man Jake had walked up with told him to have a nice day as he stepped away to greet someone he knew.

Jake slipped into the back row on the left as the worship team moved towards the front. A large screen was counting down for something. Jake assumed that was when the service would start. He was right. As soon as the countdown hit zero there was a soft drum roll and the music began.

Jake didn’t sing. The lyrics were displayed on the screen over a view of waves crashing at a cliff. The video mirrored his feelings lately. Jake was determined not to participate. He stood without singing. This was God’s last chance and he wasn’t going to make it easy on Him.

There was a break in the music and someone came up and asked visitors to fill out the card in the backs of the seat in front of them. Jake stared at the little red card and pen in front of him, but didn’t pull it out. The music resumed and people around him lifted their hands in the air. Jake stared at the words, feeling lost in their midst.

Soon the music was ending and a man, presumably the pastor, bounced up onto the stage as the worship team stepped down. Happiness seemed to ooze out of him. The screen now held a Bible verse as the pastor began. He spoke of fighting for your joy and how he wanted them to be happier today than they were yesterday.

“There’s more joy in Jesus than in anything…” the pastor said and Jake felt like he looked him directly in the eyes when he spoke.

Jake was thinking he hadn’t felt joy since his before his father got sick. It had been a long fight against the cancer that had caused his father so much pain. He had passed away a fraction of the size he had been when he was strong. Cancer had devastated every part of him. Jake’s small mother had seemed to have no trouble lifting him from his wheelchair to the couch or bed.

A single tear threatened to roll down his cheek as his heart ached at the thought of it. Jake did his best to will the tear to stay. His mind wandered, barely taking in the sermon, though a visual or two broke through. God’s presence hovering like a cloud over the temple and God’s light showing them the way in the dark.

Jake thought to himself. “It would be nice to know where you were supposed to go.”

Jake felt like life had been filled with darkness lately. His mom’s health was deteriorating now as well. She missed his dad so much. No one expected her to be with them much longer. He wasn’t sure he could take the pain of losing her too.

“We were designed to be in relationships, in relationship with God…”

Jake thought about being alone soon. Those thoughts scared him.

“How can I be in relationship with you God? I’m not even sure you exist. Where were you when Dad died? Where are you now?” Jake thought.

Jake felt a warmth fall over his shoulder. He looked to his side but no one was there. His heart beat wildly in his chest as if he were a rabbit caught out in a field alone. He froze, afraid to move. The feeling didn’t go away. It was as if God sat down in the chair beside him and put his arm around Jake and whispered in his ear, “Here. I’m right here.”

Jake didn’t hear another word of the sermon. It was all he could do to keep the tears from falling. The pastor finished and sat down a few rows in front of him as the music began again. Jake didn’t stand when the worship leader asked them too. He was too afraid the feeling would leave him.

A paraphrase of a Bible verse he knew, where two or three are gathered, bounced around in his head. Had God truly met him here today? Jake couldn’t shake the feeling and he couldn’t explain it. 

As he walked slowly from the building several people smiled and spoke to him. Jake was still miles away, focusing on what he had just experienced, and trying not to let it overwhelm him. He looked down and realized he was carrying the visitor’s card and that somewhere in the service he had filled it out. Barely, but still, his name and email were present.

The man who had walked in beside him stepped up next to him again. “If you take that to the booth over there, they have a gift for you,” the man said patting him on the shoulder as he pointed to the visitor’s booth.

“Thank you,” Jake said in almost a whisper. The warmth of the man’s touch reminded him of the warmth he had felt in the sanctuary.

People were smiling and chatting all around him, but Jake was still lost in what he couldn’t explain. Even though he had arrived to give God one more chance, he had dismissed all that he had witnessed.

It was a friendly church. They did seem joyful and Jake longed for that joy. More importantly Jake longed for the relationship he thought they must have with God, if there was a God.

He handed the man at the booth his visitor’s card and the man handed him a small bag of things. Jake peered down into the bag at a coffee cup and some other small items. It was nice. If this man had any idea how he had felt when he arrived, Jake wasn’t sure he would still be as kind to him.

No one thing had made a difference. Determined to walk away sure there was no God, Jake had dismissed them all one by one. He couldn’t dismiss God’s presence.

But God had a different plan and each thing Jake had witnessed or experienced had brought him one step closer to the place God planned to give him back his faith, the place where God showed up in Jake’s story.

God knew Jake had only one more chance to offer Him, and He used His people to bring Jake close, and to complete the morning that Jake would never forget. Just the way He would use Jake in someone else’s story in the very near future to move His Kingdom forward. His plan was perfectly woven.

You see, little things don’t mean much… they mean everything.

 

By

Vicki L. Pugliese

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The 11th Mile

“How is your soul?” our pastor asked us to ask each other. “Tired”, “Fine”… I heard around me. “Wounded and a bit beaten,” was my response. It was such a small moment with such a big impact. My words stuttered as they came out. Emotion caught in my throat as the truth of them hit me.

As the day wore on, flashes of five years ago kept creeping into my mind. Five years ago my husband and I trained for a Disney Half Marathon – which we completed. For some reason my mind was connecting the feelings my words had described to that day.

I am not a runner by nature, and I’m slow.  My husband said when I jog it’s more like a cross between moseying and jogging. He’s not wrong.  It took a little over a year from when I first got off the couch and prepared for my first 5K. I was diligent at training. Don’t applaud my efforts too soon. I’m an “all in” and then “quickly all out” kind of girl – I get bored easily. Injuries have sent me back to my old ways and I have gained back the weight I lost. But that day when I was “all in”, despite an injured ankle – I finished my race. The finish line is not where I felt those feelings – that was at the eleventh mile.

At the eleventh mile I stopped and soaked my sore knee and ankle in bio-freeze, as did many of the other runners.  I made a pit stop, and when I came back out, I saw her run by; the balloon lady.  For those of you who have never run a half marathon, or didn’t run it at the back of the pack, there is a pacer and she has balloons tied to her so that you know that’s who she is. For a Disney half, you end up out running on the streets near the park. So for safety reasons, if you are behind the balloon lady at a mile marker, there is a bus sitting there ready to take you to the finish line. You are not allowed to continue – it’s a hard and fast rule.

As I saw her run by, my heart sank. I was already exhausted and there was over two and a half miles left to go, and now I was behind the absolute slowest I was allowed to go. I immediately took off in an attempt to catch up with her. I caught her and fell behind her several times in the next mile.  At one point she reminded several of us that if we were behind her at the mile marker, we would be asked to stop. I remember thinking I wasn’t going to make it. I had trained so hard and yet I was going to be asked to stop. It was defeating.

Then several of us began plotting her demise as we ran just in front of her.  She would laugh and tell us that she could hear us. It helped to lighten that despair, even if it was silly. Somehow the journey took on a value of its own. I was laughing.  I was enjoying commiserating with others but knowing I wasn’t going to give up. We encouraged each other. Eventually I would pull away from her enough not to have her presence be a constant worry. Worry is exhausting. I found my second wind, somewhere deep down and finished; running into the happy arms and smiling face of my husband who had finished much sooner.

That feeling I had at the eleventh mile – that’s how my soul has felt many times recently. I suppose I’m in the eleventh mile of my career. Close enough to want it to be over but tired enough to also want to give up and get on the bus. Some days I’m not sure I’ll find my second wind.  

I lost my job a little over a year ago. I was not a match for this little company I had joined. It’s been a hard battle back for my self-esteem. I was injured in the process. Injured where it doesn’t show, if you don’t know me. I long for retirement – the finish line. But in the process, I’m missing the journey.  In the process, I’m longing for my future and dismissing the value of my present. I see the balloon lady and I’m discouraged. It’s hard to keep working when you aren’t sure you can do it. When with every mistake made or unrealistic deadline missed, I wonder if this failure will be my undoing. The voice in my head is my own worst enemy. It’s like running and trying to keep up with the balloon lady, passing her only to have her pass you again.

Our pastor told us to pray for those answers we heard. Pray for those, like me, who answered honestly from a place of less than victory. And now, after my pastor’s question – I’m looking for my pack. The one that will plot the balloon lady’s demise… and make me laugh, and make me enjoy the journey again. I need to find my “communitas” as our church calls it. I need to fight for my joy and I need their help with that.

I’m looking for them now. I’ve realized how much I need them, so I won’t end up on the bus. How much I need them to change my focus because I’ve realized I don’t want to quit. I want to finish the race. I want to finish and run into the smiling arms of Jesus. Somehow I think someone else out there is looking for their pack too. I want to encourage you to fight for your joy. Find your pack. Don’t miss out on the journey wishing for the finish line. Because the best memories are there even in the eleventh mile and you’ll miss them if you get on the bus.

 

 By

Vicki L. Pugliese

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The Search for Joy

There’s something very attractive about Joy. We seem designed to search for it, to fill our insatiable need. It warms us and lingers. The belly laugh of a baby, or the antics of a puppy; they bring a smile to our face. That look on an old friend’s face as you walk through the door; so happy to see you. We long to have our lives filled with it, and will do almost anything to obtain it.

We’ll substitute Joy’s cousin happiness, if our cup gets too empty. Happiness seems so much easier to find. We find happiness in relationships, achievement, and material things. But happiness is intricately linked with disappointment. Relationships that start out somewhere in the stratosphere end up being plagued with boredom, or worse – apathy. We are selfish by nature, and the work it takes to maintain a relationship gets tedious. Our prior achievements quickly lose their sparkle. The happiness they brought inevitably devolves into “what have you done for me lately?” The next shiny new toy only makes us long for more. Happiness becomes, at best, contentment with a side of obligation.

The difference from true joy seems obvious, even though, at first, they felt the same. We are drawn to it.

Our pastor regularly tells us “There’s more joy in Jesus” and that he wants us to have more joy today than we did yesterday. What seems like a simple focus change, in practice, is not as easy as it sounds.

I try to trust and follow, only to find I’ve wandered off. I go through the motions of church attendance, and reading His word. It isn’t changing me. There isn’t a list of minimum things to do to achieve Joy. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m certainly going to end up looking to do the minimum even if I start out zealous.

Once I mess things up, I’m quick to hand it over to Jesus, but when things get back on track… Well… then I start pushing Him off the throne of my heart. I forget and strike out on my own – hoping to find an unending source.

And in the process, walk away from it.

Jesus doesn’t need my help. There is no minimum list because nothing I could ever do could ever earn what He has already done for me. He wants my whole heart. His plans are far greater than anything I could imagine. Complete with the redemption from careless actions I’m sure to take.

But do I trust Him enough?

I want to hang on to my pet wound that I’ve tucked down so deep. I want to pick it up and hold it close, to shed a tear. I want it healed – but I don’t want to let go, even as it leads me away from joy. I allow it to hurt me all over again. Had I only let Him heal it, I would have found joy in that story. Over and over I could return to His healing to find strength, faith and hope. Over and over I could have received the joy He intended.

All He ever wanted was for me to trust Him, to follow Him, to allow Him to be in control – and then my life would be filled with the Joy I so deeply desire. My cup would be filled and overflowing, so that I might let His love flow out onto others. So that I might be this joy that someone is drawn to, and I could tell them of the unending source. I could tell them of Him.

By Vicki L Pugliese

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