No note accompanied the balloon. And despite my initial desire to know exactly who had left it, I decided to simply accept that Jesus had. Jesus had left a yellow, smiley-face balloon on my porch to cheer me up. To bring me joy. Simplistic, corny, and perfect.
And so I brought it in my house and left it in the living room, as a reminder for joy.
It's still in my living room, and it's still being held up strong by the helium that fills it.
Because joy persists.
And despite the balloon not being completely full of helium anymore, it still aims to reach the ceiling.
Because joy persists.
The last few months have had their share of trying situations and heartache: loss, grieving, elation, and achievement. Joy didn't exist in all of those times-- but it could have. Because Joy and Rest are intermixed; and so are Rest and Peace.
When I surrender my life, my circumstances, and my will at the feet of the Creator, he covers me with a rest/peace that is unexplainable (if you allow Him). And when I experience this peace, I also can experience His joy. Because God's kind of joy looks a little different than the joy I imagined. But it's just as sweet.
And joy persists. Despite tough circumstances. Despite harsh words. Despite pain.
Because how could temporary pain limit eternal joy?
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